A Different Game
by Agents Are Us
Summary: Shield Towers is home to a variety of residents. There was an arsonist, a transhumanist, an agent, a criminal and a cyborg. And a killer. Any one of them could be a villain, or one could be all six. Steve Waters knew who was who. So he was murdered. Whichever pair of his heirs solves the case will inherit his fortune. Based on the Westing Game.
1. Shield Towers

**1\. I know it's kind of stupid for me to be starting** ** _another_** **long-term fic, but then I read "The Westing Game" and this started rattling around my brain.**

 **2\. This is based off of the Westing Game, with heirs from all over the MCU (not Guardians of the Galaxy, sorry) but mostly Agents of SHIELD. There are different clues, different names, and the characters have different secrets. This is going to be fun.**

 **3\. List of tenants and heirs and who they would be in the book is in the notes at the end of the chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Shields are made to guard people from harm. To be a barrier that caught any ill-intent that might be thrown at the person in question.

Yet, Shield Towers was perhaps the most open place you would ever visit. Every apartment featured an open floor plan, with one wall made entirely of glass. The doors did not have locks (though you could request them for $5 each).

This did not happen, due to the fact that Shield Towers lacked one thing. No, it was not wealthy tenants or smart tenants or tenants with enough time to make such a request.

Shield Towers lacked any tenants at all.

This changed the day Nick Fury was given exactly six envelopes to deliver. Each one he slipped under the correct door. After doing so, he crossed one name off the list Walter Firestorm had given him.

Nick Fury was 62- much too old to be a delivery boy- and Walter Firestorm was a false name.

Fury did not read any of the letters, but if he had, this is what he would have seen.

 _Dear Future Tenant,_

 _Have you been searching for the apartment of your dreams? Do you need an accessible, modern, comfortable housing at a price you can afford?_

 _COME TO SHIELD TOWERS_

 _-Tons of natural light_

 _-Doorman and maid services. Free!_

 _-Air conditioning and heating_

 _-Elevator: fastest model on the market_

 _-No. 1 school district in the state; exclusive, safe neighborhood_

 _-Pets allowed!_

 _These masterfully built apartments will be shown by appointment only- so call 276-7474 and book yours today!_

 _Your servant,_

 _Walter Firestorm_

 _P.S._

 _Also renting space in the building for:_

 _-A vet's office in the lobby_

 _-A coffee shop/bakery- entrance from parking lot!_

 _-A restaurant- on the whole top floor!_

* * *

Walter Firestorm throws the door to apartment 3D with a flourish. Inside walk the Johnsons. Well, three Johnsons, because Jemma was a Simmons-Johnson, much to her adopted mother's displeasure.

"I don't see why you must insist upon keeping that ratty old name, dear," she often said, smoothing her perfect daughter's hair on her perfect shoulders and across her perfect back.

Jemma never replied. Changing her name was the one thing she would not do to please her mother.

"Well, I doubt it matters much. You'll be a Fitz soon. Won't that be just perfect?" Jiaying did not pause to let her daughter answer. "Mrs. Leopold Fitz."

That aside, Jiaying Johnson had succeeded in having a perfect daughter. Jemma was so perfect in fact that the other Johnson girl was mostly overlooked by Mrs. Johnson, other than to be ordered around. "Hurry up, Tremors," the mother says, not bothering to turn and look at the girl.

'Tremors' Johnson does not look back herself. Unable to hear her mother over the music that was blasting through her earbuds, she steps clear of the door and allows Mr. Firestorm to shut it behind her.

Dr. Calvin Johnson, blind to the goings on of this wife and daughters (for the most part), is pacing the farthest wall, starring out the window. It was the length and weight of the full wall, letting in natural light. "That'll cut the electric bill," he muses.

"Ah, yes," Walter says excitedly, rushing to the other end of the apartment's living room. "And, as an added bonus, it's special one-way glass. You get to see outside but no one can see inside. All the privacy you need!"

'He's energetic,' Tremors thinks, watching his mouth open and close rapidly. 'Practically bouncing off the wall.'

"I'm not sure…" the doctor says, looking around. "It's only got two bedrooms…"

Mr. Firestorm begins to look worried. "This is the only apartment left and I've got twenty people lined up for it."

"Three, dear," Jiaying reminds him, pointing to a closet. "And think about how nice it's going to be, with your office just downstairs." The vet's wife wants this apartment, with its lake view and fancy glass. Wait till the women at her book club saw this place. She would lead them through the lobby, watching them wobble on high heels while expertly navigating the room. She would not point out the real crystal chandeliers, but let them gaze up in wonderment at the ornate fixtures themselves. Show them to the- her daydream is interrupted by Cal winning about something.

"That's a cupboard."

Sure, it was a little small, but if that was the price they had to pay, so be it. "It's big enough for Tremors."

Calvin looks to this youngest daughter. Hands shoved into her jean pockets, she starring determinately at the floor. The ends of her hair were dyed red this week, matching the color of her flannel shirt expertly.

He wants to see her face, to know what she was thinking. But doing so would require him to brush the hair away from her face, and the vet knows better than to touch that hair. It was all far too close to the small red braid on the side of her face. Cal had made that mistake last week, and was still nursing a bruise on his upper arm because of it.

Instead he goes by what he can see. Tremors is nodding her head to the music, which he takes as a sign of approval.

"We'll take it."

* * *

Only one other tenant had concerns (well, one other tenant that could voice them). And that was Darcy Lewis.

"Isn't this just the perfect apartment for you?" Walter Firestorm says, throwing open the door to an apartment for the sixth and last time that day. "And you're in luck, because this is that last one left." At least this time when he said it the comment was true.

"I wouldn't say its perfect, mister. Where's the lake?"

"Other side of the building, sorry. But really, it's too expensive for an intern-"

" _Paid_ intern. And my boss is going to win a Nobel Prize, so I get a bonus."

"Still," Firestorm shrugs. "Anyway, it's the last apartment left."

"Well…"

"I've got thirty people lined up outside for this apartment."

"I guess I'll take it, then."

* * *

Whether or not he was a real person, Walter Fireman was a good salesman. But the time the sun set on the 5th of July he had rented out all of the apartments to the people and families whose names were already printed on little slips of paper and tapped up on the mailbox.

 _Office: Dr. Johnson_

 _Lobby: Hunter-Morse Bakery_

 _2C: N. Romanoff_

 _2D: Hunter-Morse, Campbell and Banner_

 _3C: D. Lewis_

 _3D: Johnson (-Simmons)_

 _4C: Mackenzie-Maximoff and Triplett_

 _4D: Raina Z._

 _5: Mackenzie-Maximoff's Restaurant_

But who were they, really? Only Walter Firestorm knew.

These were names, not lives. Dare he say it, some may not have been people.

They were a vet, a lawyer, a (paid) intern, a seamstress, and a cook. Oh, and there was an arsonist, a transhumanist, an agent, a criminal, and a cyborg.

And a liar.

But they were all liars. Every single one of them.

* * *

 **1\. Sandy McSouthers- Phil Coulson**

 **2\. Otis Amber- Nick Fury**

 **3\. Berthe Erica Crow- Melinda May**

 **4\. Jake Wexler- Calvin Johnson**

 **5\. Grace Winsor-Wexler- Jiaying Johnson**

 **6\. Angela Wexler- Jemma Simmons-Johnson**

 **7\. Turtle Wexler- Tremors Johnson**

 **8\. James Shin Hoo- Alphonso Mackenzie-Maximoff**

 **9\. Sun Lin Hoo- Wanda Mackenzie-Maximoff**

 **10\. Doug Hoo- Antoine Triplet**

 **11\. George Theodorakis- Lance Hunter**

 **12\. Cathrine Theodorakis- Barbra Morse**

 **13\. Theo Theodorakis- Lincoln Campbell**

 **14\. Chris Theodorakis- Bruce Banner**

 **15\. J.J. Ford- Raina Z**

 **16\. Flora Baumbatch- Natasha Romanoff**

 **17\. Denton Deere- Leopold Fitz**

 **18\. Sydelle Pulaski- Darcy Lewis**

 **19\. Sam Westing- Steve Waters**

 **So, I hope you like this so far.**

 **Tell me what you think.**


	2. The Mill

**1\. Thanks to everyone who r &r&f&fs**

 **Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

* * *

By September first, the tenants had all moved in. On the third, Mackenzie-Maximoff's Restaurant opened, but no one came. The Bakery, which also sold soups and sandwiches, did far better, to tenants "ordering up" and workers on their lunch breaks from Waterstown.

Other than the upset Mr. Mackenzie, or merely Mack, the tenants were mainly content. People said "Hello" and "How are you?" when they passed each other in the halls. Nodded when the other seemed busy.

People were polite and did not ask things of their neighbors, as they was not their way. Each tenant (for the most part) learned quickly the others' ways. They knew not to comment on or touch Tremors' hair. Not to ask Natasha Romanoff about anything personal. Not to mention the bakery in front of Mack or Bruce's wheelchair in front of Lincoln.

Some were overlooked. Darcy Lewis was not sure if any of the tenants even knew her name (some did, some did not). No matter, she was used to that. Anyway, soon Jane would win her Nobel Prize and Lewis would have her moment in the spotlight.

Either way, everyone had- so far- received what they had come for. One tenant needed office space for experiments of questionable legality. Another required more outlets and a degree of privacy to keep their various robotic parts charged.

They keep up appearances and dealt with their lives behind closed (locked) doors.

The real challenges were coming.

* * *

By the end of October, all the residents seemed well-adjusted to their new environments. Like the changing trees, their minds were transitioning away from that period of uneasiness and into one of comfort. Routines had been set and, after a period of uncertainty, each was finding his or her own path through their new lives.

It was at the beginning of this comfortable time that four men found themselves standing outside of the Shield Towers building. Phil Coulson, the doorman, was at his post, opening the door for Nick Fury to deliver the day's mail. The other two were only 'men' to a degree. Lincoln Campbell and Antione Triplet, both sophomores in high school, were dragging feet outside, not wanting to spend one of the last nice days of the year inside.

It was there they found a real sight, and all stood facing it for some time until a willowy fourteen year old on a bicycle came flying around the corner at top-speed. Her hair, ends dyed blue this week, flew behind her like a flag declaring war. For once, her earbuds were trailing around her shoulders instead of in her ears.

"Did you see the mill turning at the Waters' house?!" she says excitedly.

"Why do you think we're all standing out here, Tremors?" Antione asks sarcastically, flicking the small braid by her ear. "Ouch!" he yells, receiving a sharp punch to the upper arm.

"Just be happy it wasn't your leg, Mr. Track Star," Tremors muttered viciously. "Next time…" she lets herself trail off.

Coulson grins at them. "Hey, kids, let's play nice, okay?" he offers. "Now, Nick, go on with that story you were telling me."

"It wasn't a story, Phil! This actually happened in the Waters house last year. It was in the papers!" Fury exclaims, dropping a box he was holding. Triplet sees the name Lewis and wonders if that's the odd intern who works for that prize-winning scientist.

"What happened?" Lincoln asks. He glances up at his adoptive parents' apartment window. He was late for his shift at the bakery.

Nick takes a deep breath, taking in the crisp air. "Well, it was on Halloween. These two boys made a bet with each other. One would break into the Waters House, and he would get a dollar for every minute he stayed inside."

"How much did he make?" Tremors buts in, taking out a notepad from her back pocket.

"Didn't see one cent. After thirty-three seconds, he was runnin' out of there screaming about 'repeating dances'. Lives in a mental hospital now, still whispering about it in his sleep."

"Poor boy," Coulson shakes his head. "Never had a chance, what with Waters' ghost roaming around."

"His ghost?" Lincoln asks carefully. "Waters is dead?"

"Oh, yes. Has been for years. At least, that's what everyone says. His body is rotting away in that house, probably laid out on the dining room table or under the kitchen sink. Crazy man. Crooked as a bendy straw." He adds the last part maliciously, which is not at all like Coulson. Of course, it was common knowledge that Waters had fired Coulson from his job at the purification center, leaving his six-person family with no income and no resources.

"What happened to playing nice, DC?" Tremors asks innocently. Coulson smiles at her, opening the door to let them all into the air-conditioned lobby. "Thanks, DC." She is the only one that says it, and it brings a wide smile to the doorman's face.

* * *

Bruce Banner smiled as his brother glanced up from the driveway. He would certainly have a good story to tell later, by the looks of it. Lincoln was always good with stories. And not forgetting about him, even though they were not real-blood-related.

"But that doesn't matter," he can almost hear his mother saying. "Because we don't need to be real-blood-related to be a family and love and take care of each other."

It's a nice thought, one that helps him to calm his shaky muscles and concentrate on the mill. The big wheel that was s-l-o-w-l-y t-u-r-n-i-n-g around and around. It certainly hadn't done _that_ yesterday. Or even an hour ago.

Bruce would know, he spent most of his time starring out that window. It was special, they said. He could see out, but no one else could see in, so Bruce didn't have to feel embarrassed or like he was a spectacle.

What he really wanted was to be downstairs in the Bakery, helping his family like he had before his hands started getting shaky. Bruce used to be really good at decorating the cakes. Now, the closest he got was having his mom or dad or Lincoln help him eat a piece.

That is when he sees it. The figure, walking in clear view of him in the Waters House. Well, not clear view, as Bruce could not make out the face, but close enough that he could see the person was icing his or her shoulder.

Maybe Lincoln wouldn't be the only one with a story to tell today.

* * *

 **Tell me what you think (:**


	3. Tenants

**1\. Thanks to everyone who r &r&f&fs**

 **Disclaimer: Author owns nothing.**

* * *

Jemma stared out of Ms. Romanoff's window, toward the lake and Mr. Waters' house. There was not much else she _could_ do, as she was being fitted for her wedding dress and could not move a muscle for fear of being pricked by a needle.

"Wow!" she exclaims as the wheel begins turning.

Mrs. Johnson, taking this as pain, tuts at Natasha. "Try to be careful, dear. My Jemma is sensitive to pain stimuli." She sits primly on the small futon couch, looking at the fabric disapprovingly. She watches critically as the dress starts to take shape, not afraid to voice her opinions.

"Ms. Romanoff didn't hurt me, mother," Jemma clarifies, looking at the woman apologetically. "I was just surprised to see-"

"Oh! The mill is moving. We must have new neighbors!" Jiaying interrupts her. "Isn't that nice, Jemma?"

"Yes, mother," Jemma replies automatically.

Ms. Romanoff pauses what she is doing to look up interestedly. So, the Waters' mill was back in business, it seemed. She shakes her head and goes back to stitching the hem up.

"Mom! Jemma! Ms. Romanoff! The mill's moving!" Tremors shouts, rushing in.

Jiaying turns to her other daughter. "We've seen, Tremors." She sighs, shaking her head slightly to Ms. Romanoff.

Natasha avoids Tremors' hair as she stands up. Her hand had accidently brushed the tiny red braid yesterday, and now she had a large purple bruise on her arm to prove it. That girl was a devil, she was. A regular демон, as her mother would say. Not unlike Natasha at that age.

"Hey, Ms. Romanoff, do you think you could fix the tear in one of my shirts? I'm going to be a lumberjack for Halloween tonight." Tremors takes the ball of red flannel out of her bag, showing the seamstress the offending arm. "That jackass Trip ripped it when he was running down the stairs yesterday."

Jiaying tuts loudly, not giving Romanoff a chance to respond. "Don't bother Natasha. Can't you see she's busy with Jemma?" Really, what was wrong with that girl? Sometimes, she felt like nothing had worked with Tremors. Maybe a good shake would help... but, no, Romanoff was right there.

"I can stitch it up later," Jemma offers in the silence. She lends a small smile to her sister, who looks at their mother hopefully for confirmation. They both knew Jemma would never go through with it if Jiaying did not give her permission.

Jiaying shakes her head. "That's nice, dear, but we have to start planning the seating chart for the reception later. Tremors will just have to wear something else."

"No, I won't! I'll just be a zombie lumberjack!" Tremors decides.

"You're getting a little old for Halloween, in my opinion. Don't you think so, Jemma?"

Jemma stares at the floor, begging her head not to nod. It does anyway. "Maybe a little." She looks apologetically at Tremors, whose hands have started to shake again.

"And why do you always insist on wearing _flannel_?" She pauses. This was a chance. "You know... I have time this weekend. We could go shopping, pick out some nice new tops for you." Jiaying offers the bait with a motherly, hopeful smile.

"No, thank you, mother," Tremors says defiantly.

Jiaying sighs. "Always making yourself so... _unattractive_. You know, if you would just let me help, you could get married to a nice man, like Jemma."

"I-do-not-care-about-Jemma's-perfect-genius-boyfriend-he's-a-stupid-jackass!"

Jiaying raises her hand, ready to finally being it down on that insolent child... then lets it drop. Natasha was here, she reminds herself. And Jemma... "Fine then. Have it your way," she laces her voice with disinterest. Like she cared about what that child did. Jemma was her ticket. Yes, she was. The other was a lost cause.

Tremors, hands balled into fists, punches a pillow and leaves. "I'm going to tell Dad about the mill."

"Remember to order dinner for yourself! Jemma and I are going out!" Jiaying calls after her absentmindedly, already back to scrutinizing the dress. "Make the neckline a little lower, Ms. Romanoff. We don't want Jemma to look like a nun, do we?"

* * *

May was stern. Stern and precise. She did not smile. She did not make small talk with the tenants. On the rare occasion she did talk, it was a short, clean. Every syllable thought out and perfected.

May looked the part. She wore her black uniform every day, with her hair falling in sharp precision over her shoulders. May never wore her hair back, even when she had to clean the floors and it got in the way.

She had long ago perfected the art of concealing her emotions. Sometimes, even from herself. This had gotten her the title of 'Ice-Queen' from that beautiful, sad, shaky teenager on the third floor, but May did not mind.

At least, she did not think she minded.

With all of this, no one would have suspected the one chink in her armor would be a cat. But it was not just any cat. It was her therapy, the one organism that she could trust.

So, when Andrew Garner had started refusing his cat food this morning, the vet's office in the lobby was her first stop. May could not seem to stop the twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach, the worries pilling up like dirty dishes in the forefront of her mind.

"How is he, Dr. Johnson?" she asks nervously, adverting her dark brown eyes. She must have been pretty herself, at one time, and still was. May just covered it up by her harsh demeanor and uniform. She was thin, but strong from moving heavy furniture to clean. She was Asian, with thick, shiny black hair that showed no intent of becoming any less thick or black. A real beauty, if she would only relax her stern facial expression for a second.

The vet looks surprised. This was the first time he had ever heard the usually silent cleaner speak. "Fine, it just seems like the change of scenery startled him a bit. No reason to worry, it should clear up soon. In the meantime-" The doctor halts his explanation as Tremors comes in excitedly.

"Did you see it, Daddy?"

The doctor shakes his head, an easy smile lighting up his face. He was a good father, May decided, which was what that girl deserved. "No, what?"

"The mill's moving!"

May allows herself to look out the window along with the two Johnsons. So it was. Well, people had been taking about Steve Waters' supposed death for a while now... maybe someone had bought the property.

Or, more likely, the old bat had a trick up his sleeve.

* * *

"So, the doorman told you Waters was dead, rotting away in a kitchen cabinet." Mack looks up at his son, who was jogging around the restaurant, setting out candles and silverware. "What I care about is why were you out listening to the doorman's gossip when I needed you up here, getting this place ready."

Trip shrugs, continuing to jog around the fifth floor. His father had let him take his (dead) mother's name, but that was pretty much the last real conversation they had. Now, it was all about the restaurant, school, and basketball.

"You could have at least been practicing for the tryouts next month. Lord knows you aren't getting into college without a basketball scholarship."

"Yeah, Dad. Sorry." Trip did not understand why his father, who usually was so careful not to let his family become any kind of stereotype, would suddenly want him to be good at basketball. _Everyone_ had always said he should play, but track was his sport. Mack knew that, and abhorred it vehemently. Thank god for Wanda, who had put up such a fuss that Mack had been forced to let him run.

"Good. Now go do your homework. We open in two hours."

Trip nods and runs off, jogging up and down the stairs instead.

Mack, not privy to this information, sighs and opens the reservations book. Not one person had made a reservation. He slams it shut, cursing Waters under his breath.

At the window was Wanda, looking out at the lake and thinking of home. Sokovia. Her brother, the only blood relative she had left, trying out for the Olympics before getting shot in the leg. Pietro was alive, but he would not be able to run this year, maybe not ever. It was up to her now. Still, she wished and wished to be home again.

* * *

Phil Coulson waved as Raina Zabo pulled up in her blue luxury car (all Coulson knew was that it was an expensive, fancy make). He opened the door for her, taking her keys expertly. "Hello, ma'am. How was the case?"

"Open and shut, Coulson," the lawyer replies. She catches a glimpse of her reflection and puts a stray curl back in place, smoothing the hem of her lace flower dress. Her tan hands were decorated with perfectly manicured nails and the tailored black suit jacket showed to perfect amount of wrist to be covered by her fancy watch. Everything was an equation of logic, even her appearance.

The doorman smiles at her. "I'm happy to hear that, Ms. Zabo." He lifts the overly full briefcase out of her trunk, walking it across the lobby for her. "Hey, did you hear about the mill?"

"No. I don't really care about the goings-on of Steve Waters," she replies curtly.

"Well, they say he's dead up there, you know. Stuffed in the cabinet under the sink. His ghost roaming around, screaming nonsense."

Raina sniffs in distain. "I'm sure that's not true, Phi."

"Just quoting Ol' Nick, ma'am."

Zabo could spout some choice words about Nick Fury, but chooses not to. Anything that could hurt her future appointment to the position of judge could not be tolerated, and someone was bound to accuse her of being racist if she insulted the overgrown delivery boy. "Yes, well, that is interesting gossip, Coulson. Thank you." She tips him as they reach apartment 4D, not bothering to look at the number on the bill she handed him. Raina knew it was a twenty, because she only has twenties.

* * *

Bruce was so exited he could not stutter out the words to his brother properly. "T-t-t-t"

Lincoln kneels down next to Bruce's wheel chair. "It's okay, Brucie. I'll tell you this story Nick Fury told me..." he goes on to explain about the boy and the corpse and Waters' ghost. Linc was a very good writer, Bruce could not wait for him to realize this and start writing books for him and everyone else to read.

"G-good story," he manages, deciding to tell Lincoln about the person with the hurt arm later. He did not want to ruin Linc's story with the truth, that Steve Waters was actually alive and walking around his house.

It does not occur to him that there was a possibility that was not Steve Waters at all.

* * *

Darcy smirks as she makes the cab driver help her carry her things out of the taxi. Her story about working with Jane Foster, the Nobel Prize winning scientist, had done it's job. She still had to carry the awkwardly shaped packages through the lobby, because that good for nothing doorman was no where to be seen, much to her annoyance.

She had moved to Shield Towers hoping that she would finally get to be more than comedic relief and cheap labor, to be _someone_. But, so far, no one had noticed poor Darcy other than when she mentioned Jane Foster, who was growing increasingly more popular now that she was engaged to a gorgeous movie star. Jane was even going to be the love interest in his next movie: a modern take on Norse Mythology. Darcy had a part too, as the cancer-riddled woman who introduced actor Thor Odinson to the Poptart and stuck around to make people laugh before kicking the bucket and inspiring the two lovebirds to tie the knot.

Maybe this would be her big break; maybe she would finally be noticed.

Well, either way, Darcy was determined. They _would_ see her now.

* * *

 **демон is demon in Russian.**

 **Reviews are golden.**


	4. The Murder

**1\. Thanks. Just thanks.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Westing Game or Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.**

* * *

It was Halloween night. Tremors looked around at the mostly empty streets. Shield Towers was not in a very populated area, and there were not enough kids willing to stray from some of the more upscale, densely populated neighborhoods to make it a busy night. That was good for her, as there would be less witnesses.

Dressed in her ripped flannel shirt and some old blue jeans, Tremors had carefully applied the zombie makeup in the mirror. Luckily, her tremors had not come back then so the paint looked almost perfect on her face. She was a lumberjack zombie through and through, except for maybe the headphones around her neck. Her backpack, on the other hand, looked the part. It was rather old and the zipper had been repeatedly stitched back into place by her unsteady hands.

The Frankenstein bag was filled with anything she might need in the Waters' House. Her phone, a charger, a sandwich she had "ordered up", and her gloves in case the body made her hands shake. Not to mention crushed garlic from a salad of some sort (people ate strange things) and some holy water from a nearby church. And pepper spray. A girl could never be too careful.

Triplett had already reached the house, phone at the ready to time the event. He jogged in place to strengthen his leg muscles as he waited for Tremors and Lincoln to make it around the lake.

"Ready?" he asked as the pair reached him, out of breath. Tremors holds up a finger (definitely _not_ her index) and gasps for breath.

"Need a minute," she manages to get out. Lincoln just nods, showing he too needed to replenish his air supplies.

Trip made an impatient noise, still jogging. He stops, however, as Tremors straightens up and slowly starts to walk towards the (open) side door. As she steps foot on the threshold, Trip starts the clock.

Tremors gets out her phone immediately, using the flashlight to guide her through the house. The light starts shaking. She syncs her headphones in retaliation, allowing the music to fill her ears and relax her muscles. That was better. Over the years, Tremors had gotten good at stopping the spasms in her hands. Most of the time, she did not even think about them anymore. Stress, however, made a show of bringing it back out.

No need to think about that now, though. Tremors just stops to shove the gloves on her hands and continues walking throughout the house.

She was not scared at all. Or at least, that is what she told herself. Ghosts knew when you were frightened- everyone knew that. So if she just remained calm, everything would be fine.

Tremors fights the urge to run out screaming. They had made a bet for two dollars a minute. If she could just stay in here for ten minutes, she could afford the new Harry Potter screenplay when it came out. Hardback. Yeah, she could stay in here all night if she needed to.

Five minutes passed. _That's the new Twenty One Pilots album._

Ten minutes. _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child._

Fifteen minutes. _Both_.

"AGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!" Tremors runs out of the house at sixteen minutes forty two seconds. She zips past Trip and runs at break-neck speed all the way around the lake, the boys hot on her heels.

"What happened?" Trip asks, the first to recover.

Tremors shakes her head, balling her hands into fists. The boys finally realized how she had gotten her nickname. "Old Man Waters... he was dead!"

* * *

Dead in bed, that's what Waters was. Just like the envelope on his nightstand had read.

Tremors did not know about the boys, but she did not get a wink of sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes... uggghhh... Waters' pale, waxy, dead face greeted her. Instead she sat on her tiny bed in her tiny closet room, wondering if she would end up the same way. Dead in bed.

Her hands refused to be still.

If Tremors had dreams, she would think this was one.

But it was not. Tremors learned this the next morning while eating breakfast and watching the news. She was looking for word that someone had broken into the Waters House and killed Steve Waters, but instead was greeted by the welcome sound of the country coroner determining Waters died from a heart attack.

That was two problems solved.

It turned out Waters was actually kind of interesting. He was worth 2 billion dollars (who would inherit _that_?) and dressed up as a superhero randomly. Later, his daughter overdosed so she would not have to get married to a CEO with his eyes on the White House (and, apparently, the belief that it should be a _White_ House), and his wife left him. After that, he got into a car crash and nearly died before becoming a recluse.

The news did not mention how the body was discovered. Or the envelope.

Oh well, it wasn't her problem anymore.

Tremors stomps out of her apartment and goes to find Trip and Lincoln. They owed her 32 dollars.

* * *

Nick Fury began his rounds at Shield Towers that day. It made sense, considering that all except for one of the 'heirs' lived or worked there.

 _"As a named beneficiary in the estate of Steve R. Waters, your attendance is required in the south library of the Waters house tomorrow at 4 p.m. for the reading of the will."_

Fury knew what the letters said because he had gotten one himself. "Ol' Man Waters left us all some money. Just sign here." He held out the clipboard to Mrs. Johnson carefully. She signed it _Jiaying Johnson, housewife_ crossed that out, wrote _visionary_ crossed that out and wrote _heiress._

"How many more heirs are their? How much do we get each?" she wanted to know.

"I'm sworn to secrecy."

Jiaying sighs, slamming the door in his face.

The other heirs are much less rude. Most are even unable to speak out of shock. Wanda just writes an X on the paper and allows Mack to fill it in for her. Lincoln tries to sign for his brother, but Bruce kicks up such a fuss that Linc gives up and hands him the pen. Carefully, he fills out _Bruce Banner, cake decorator_ in the space.

* * *

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	5. Heirs To-Be-Paired

**1\. Thanks for reading.**

 **2\. I'm going to try to update this every Saturday from now on.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything.**

* * *

Tremors scratched at her arm, feeling like it was infested with ants underneath the sleeve of her scratchy cardigan. It was made of horrible brown wool and made her sneeze, but at least it was better than the dress she was wearing underneath. Her mother had insisted that she wear one of Jemma's hand-me downs: a puffy, ruffled thing that made her look more of a child than ever. It was too long, too pink, and much too young.

Her mother had dug this ancient artifact of Jemma's youth out of a random box the second she had slammed the door in Nick Fury's face. After seeing how badly it fit, Jiaying had said she would send it down to Ms. Romanoff to get it altered, but there had not been time in between getting Jemma a new dress and shoes for the occasion. All in all, Tremors felt like a teddy bear with one ear missing stuffed in the dress of an immaculate porcelain doll.

She would have felt better if her father had come along. He always knew how to make her feel better. But the veterinarian had a surgery scheduled on a blind dog with cancer, so he had not been able to attend. Jiaying did not mind at all, sure that _she_ was the heir.

Jiaying had gone on about it to that book club of hers (though it was more of a wine club, if you asked Tremors). "Now, I do suddenly recall mention of a rich third cousin of mine… I'm sure that must have been Waters… oh, yes, it's quite sad. Sam was my favorite cousin after all... I'm sure that's why he left me his fortune… How much? Oh, well, it's improper to boast, but my Sammy was a very wealthy man…" and on and on and on and on. In the space of about three sentences, Sam Waters had gone from an unlikely acquaintance to her mother's dearest friend, and none of the ladies seemed to notice (probably because by that time they were too drunk to listen properly).

"Hurry up, Jemma," Jiaying orders, slamming the door to her car and gliding off to the front door. She was already formulating a plan to remove the mill when _she_ was in charge. And wouldn't it be perfect, to have the wedding right there by the water? "But don't run," Jiaying cautioned. "You're not a child, and ladies do not stomp about."

Jemma quickened her pace, trying valiantly not to fall on the gravel in her new heels. They were a good two inches longer than her last ones, with points that could be used to stab a person half to death. "Yes, mother. Sorry, mother."

Jiaying smiled at her perfect child, completely disregarding the one already running around to the back of the house. "No need to apologize, sweetheart." She smoothed one of Jemma's fabricated curls, forcing it to confirm gently. Her hand traveled to Jemma's chin, which she taped once. "But remember our posture. And try to go outside more, you're growing paler by the day."

"Yes, mother."

"Now…" Jiaying got the feeling that something was awry. "Where's that sister of yours run off to?"

"I believe she went to go see the water. Shall I fetch her?" Jemma asks.

Jiaying weighs the options. One the one hand, she wanted to get inside quickly, as it was growing cold. On the other, if they did not get Tremors and the girl were to run off it would not look very good. "Yes. But come right inside when you find her."

Jemma nods, turning and walking as ladylike as she could down the driveway and around the back of the house. Tremors was walking in the opposite direction when Jemma found her. "Where did you go?" the older sister asks, wishing she could have as much adventure as Tremors got to.

"Wanted to see the mill up close," Tremors lies. In reality, she had forgotten that they were actually invited to the house, not breaking in like she had a few days previous.

"You don't have to lie."

"Sorry, Jems, but mom can get anything out of you. Gotta be safe."

Jemma sighs, knowing it is true. "Well, let's get back before she sends out a search party, shall we?"

"We shall," Tremors responds, in her best British accent.

"Horrible!" Jemma proclaims, covering her ears. "Absolutely rubbish!"

"What is?" Leo Fitz asks in his Scottish accent, hearing them from around the corner. "Oh, hello Jemma. Tremors. Your mother sent me. She's a tad worried." It astounded Tremors that Jiaying had managed to find the only doctor from the UK in Waterstown to marry her British daughter off to.

"Well, we're _fine_ ," Tremors spits, immediately becoming hostile.

Jemma watches her run off sadly. "Sorry, Leo. She's in a bit of a mood today," she shrugs, taking Leo's outstretched arm because it is what her mother would tell her to do.

"It's fine, we'll all be family soon enough," Leo replies, and they walk back to the house in silence.

May opens the door for them, showing the three young heirs to the library wordlessly. She smiled, though, when Tremors thanked her and punched Leo in the arm in the same movement. So beautiful, so sad.

She tried to help Tremors with her cardigan- it was rather stuffy in the house- but the girl ran away, pulling the ugly garment down to further hide her party dress. May had to admit she thought the dress was too young for the teenager, but was about two sizes too big. Still, it was prettier than the cardigan, and May noticed Tremors had dyed the ends of her hair pink to match. She laughed internally at the retreating figure whilst fighting to remain stern.

Jiaying was less amused by Tremors actions. She glared at the teenager, hissing something about 'manners' and 'upbringing' and 'in public'. Tremors just nodded, looking at the coffin situated at the front of the room. She was going closer for further inspection when her mother pulled her into a seat. Jemma and Leo took the chairs on the other side of Jiaying, and they sat in silence for some time. Tremors stretched her neck as far as she could, but the inside of the coffin was just out of her view. "What's in it?" she asked her mother eventually.

"The body, of course," Jiaying replied stiffly, keeping her head forward as more heirs arrived. The competition, in her eyes.

"Hi, DC!" Tremors greeted the new arrivals. "Mr. Mack, Trip."

"Tremors," Trip replied. The track star was still nursing a purple bruise on his arm, visible below the short sleeves of his button-down shirt.

As more heirs arrived, the obvious trend continued. They all seemed to be in some way related to Shield Towers, either by work or home or marriage. "Odd," Raina declared, sitting at one of the seats in the back, next to May and Nick. If they were surprised by her choice of seating, they did not say anything. The lawyer catches her mistake too late, cursing silently.

"Hello. Grant Ward. Is everyone here?" asks a nerdy, young-looking man in a suit. He rushes in, holding an equally disheveled stack of papers under his arm that almost slips not once- but _twice_ as he is rushing to the front of the room.

Grant slaps the papers down on the first table-like structure he sees. Which, by chance, also happens to be Mr. Waters' legs. "Shit!" he curses, resulting in mixed reactions from the group in front of him.

"Really, Grant?" Raina mutters, louder than she meant to.

"Raina?" Grant asks, face turning bright red.

Jiaying clears her throat, clearly unamused. "Do you to know each other?"

"We met in Law School." Raina offers no elaboration past this. "Better get started, Grant," she prompts Waters' star-struck lawyer.

Ward blinks one, two, three times. Swallows. Blinks again. One, two, three.

"I think she broke him," Tremors says, crossing her arms.

"Should we call someone?" Natasha asks, looking at the other heirs for an answer.

This makes Ward snap out of it. "No, no. I'm fine." He claps him hands once. "Uh, is everyone here?"

The heirs look at each other. "Looks like it," Coulson speaks up.

"Good, good," Grant mumbles, flipping through the stack of papers rapidly. "Will, will, will, will," he stammers.

"Will what?" Mack asks, unamused.

"What? No, I'm just… never mind, I found it." Ward holds up the will triumphantly, only to drop it. The pages fall onto the carpeted floor at random. "Goddamn!" A few of the heirs gasp. Ward looks from the floor, where he is picking up the pages, to the sky, then back again. "Oh. My apologies." Raina barely conceals an eye roll.

"Can we get a move on?" Mack asks, disinterested.

"Yeah, I've got to get back to help my parents with the bakery," Lincoln seconds.

"We m-m-m-make cak-k-kes," Bruce announces to the group. "Goooood cak-kes."

Mack turns to the front again in a huff. No way was he getting any customers with that kind of advertisement. No one would dare deny the invalid's family any money. Look, how they were all staring at the boy.

All, except for Jemma. She had turned to her sister, eyes moving to Tremors' hands- still for once.

"Wanda isn't coming," Mack says suddenly.

"Nor is Dr. Johnson," Jiaying adds, only just remembering herself.

"Okay… looks like we're just waiting for one more then," Grant says, trying valiantly to get the pages back in order.

As if on cue, they hear shuffling down the hall. Drawing ever near, but only in threes. _Shuffle_ , _shuffle_ , _shuffle_. Pause. _Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle_. Pause. _Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle_. Pause.

No one speaks. Even Grant Ward has taken a break from rearranging his papers.

 _Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle_. Pause.

 _BANG!_ The assembled heirs jump about a mile in their seats as Darcy Lewis shuffles into the room. Her arm is bandaged at the elbow, and her hair is thinner than usual. Actually, she looks slightly thinner, with an almost pasty complexion. Darcy grimaces, sitting in the first seat she reaches. "Sorry for the wait."

"Did you touch Tremor's hair?" Trip asks, looking at Tremors scathingly. The pink-haired fiend smiles smugly back, patting her wallet lightly.

"No, no. My chemo treatment just ran a bit long. Stage four melanoma. The doctors say I don't have very much time, but we're trying to slow it as much as possible," Darcy promises, relishing the spotlight.

The other heirs look on with pity for a few moments before Grant gets to his feet. "Well, now that we're all here, I'd like to start."

"Oh, just wait a moment!" Darcy calls, taking out her phone. She sets it to record, so that she could play back the audio if need be. Old habit from interning for a scientist. Those guys talked faster than the speed of light sometimes. "Okay, shoot."

* * *

 **Reviews... they're good, right... I sure think so...**


	6. The Will

**1\. Thanks to everyone who reads.**

 **2\. Disclaimer: I do not own the Westing Game or any Marvel properties.**

* * *

"I-I'm Grant Ward. I _do_ have a law degree, although I never met Mr. Waters. And I've got no idea in hell why he asked _me_ to be his lawyer, but he did. I have looked over the documents and checked a number of things in the terms of their legality. This being such, I wish to assure you of their authenticity. The will had two witnesses: Mathew McSkies, the Director of Waters' Mill and Electricity Production Plant, and John Garret, President of the Hydrate Corporation. I assure you that this will is completely legal, despite its… uh… _quirks_. Anyway, here we go…"

Ward begins to read from the will.

 _I, STEVE A. WATERS, resident of the small area of Waterstown in the small state of Rhode Island, being of sound mind and memory, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament._

 _ONE_ _ **.**_ _Greetings, my friends. My sixteen nieces and nephews. My heirs. (Please don't interrupt, dearest Jiaying.)_

An audible snap sounds as Mrs. Johnson closes her mouth, staring daggers at Grant Ward. The lawyer blushes slightly, stuttering through a brief apology. "It-t's Mr. Waters, ma'am. I didn't- I don't- It's in the will."

"You didn't think you were the only heir, did you?" Fury asks, smirking slightly. "Don't worry, Mrs. J, between all of you you'll still get five times as much as the rest of us."

Darcy looks up from her phone. "Could you repeat that last part? I don't think I got it over the voices." She smiles at Grant, who does not see because his eyes are moving so rapidly between Darcy's chest and her bandaged arm. The invalid clears her throat neatly, prompting him.

"Right!" he starts, trying to ovoid Raina's disapproving eyes. "Yes, of course."

 _ONE. Greetings, my friends. My sixteen nieces and nephews. My heirs. (Please don't interrupt, dearest Jiaying.) That would go for all in the room. I beg of you, let this exceptional lawyer read my last words without word from any of you. The time for questions has passed._

"Excuse me, I wasn't informed when we were allowed to ask questions," Lincoln interrupts. The other heirs (excluding Bruce) glare at him.

"That's 'cause we weren't, stupid," Tremors says. Jiaying shushes her, placing a cold hand on Tremors' shoulder. Tremors shakes it off immediately.

If the mother is hurt, she does not show it. "Please, carry on," Jiaying says primly.

 _I have gathered you here today to bond together my nearest and dearest friends. Though you may not know me, I know you, and I see you for who you really are. And now I wish for you to see me- or my body, at least- and form the unbreakable bond of mutual loss._

 _But fret not, your Uncle Steve is in a better place now. And tomorrow, the body will be returned to the elements._

 _SECOND. I, Steve Waters, did not enjoy the blessing of a natural death. No, my life was stolen. And it was stolen by one of you!_

Wow! Bruce Banner thinks as his shaky hand points at each of the heirs. A real mystery!

"A murder? He means a murder, right?" Coulson asks the person nearest to him. May stares straight ahead. Undeterred, Coulson moves to the person across the aisle, repeating his question. "He means a murder, right?"

"Of course the man means he was murdered," Mack replies, annoyed. "Probably ate too many crappy pastries from that rotten excuse of a bakery downstairs."

Lincoln smarts at the attack on his families' business. "Or maybe he got food poisoning from your restaurant."

"What did you just-"

Mack is cut off by Raina asking Ward a question. "Did you at least notify the police, Grant?" she asks condescendingly.

"Yes! Well, not yet but I was going to. Anyway, Mr. Waters' instructions were quite clear. The police are not to be informed and the will is not to be released."

"Will you let the guy finish?" Natasha blurts out, sick of all the interruptions.

 _THIRD. The lawyer has been ordered not to call the police. Our villain is much too smart to be caught. Only I know who it is. With me gone, now it is up to you all._

 _FOURTH. I task my heirs with discovering the one I seek. The one who finds the culprit may become rich themselves. Do you dare play the Waters' Game?_

"Game?" Tremors asked. "Since when was finding a murderer a game?"

"Since Steve Waters was killed," Raina replies dryly. "Well, I'm not playing, and I would advise the rest of you to follow suit."

 _FIFTH. Please, Ms. RZ, not so fast. I beg of you, read the letter this brilliant colleague of yours is about to hand to you._

"What is it?" Tremors asks from across the room.

"A declaration of sanity, signed by Dr. John Garrett."

"I thought he was the president of some water company," Nick says, scratching his head comically.

"Well, apparently his also has a medical license," Raina mutters, reading over the letter. As hard as she tries, Raina cannot find anything that would nullify the declaration. "I'll be confirming that later, of course," she adds bitterly.

 _SIXTH. Before you move to the game room, please take a moment to mourn for your lost Uncle Steve._

Jemma is the only heir to bow her head. Natasha is the only one to pray. Before anyone else can so much as muster a look of sadness, the moment is up and the heirs are racing towards their fortune.

* * *

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	7. Clues To Clues

**1\. Thanks to anyone reading (:**

 **2\. Disclaimer: I do not own the Westing Game or any Marvel property**

* * *

"Please sit at the table with your name on the card," Grant Ward orders. There were eight tables, two heirs per table, in the room. One of the tables only had one chair- the empty space was obviously meant for Bruce Banner. All the rest had two chairs. While they were not the most comfortable, the wooden chairs were at least better than the plastic monstrosities found in hospitals. All the heirs had exemplary experience in the hospital environment, and therefore all (other than Bruce because he was, as always, in his wheelchair) were silently grateful for this.

The room itself was quite interesting, especially after being in a place of mourning. This room, with its ancient board games and battered sports equipment. But any intrigue was covered in a thick layer of nerves. Everything from the curtains to a deck of cards seemed like plausible murder weapons to the jumpy heirs.

Lincoln moved over to a table in the corner of the room- the only table without any chairs at all. While everyone else was trying to find their name, he inspected the single sheet of paper laid out on the wooden tabletop. There was a hashtag drawn on it, with an X marked in the center square. Someone was laying Tic-Tac-Toe. Lincoln smirked, putting an O in the space directly to the left. The he turns around and goes to find his seat before someone notices what he is doing.

When all are seated, Ward begins to shuffle his papers, getting ready to start. Darcy takes out her IPod again, setting it to record.

 _SEVEN. My dears, it's here. The Waters Game is about to begin. Henthsforth, we will have to say 'begun' because now it has. And, as will all games, there are a certain set of rules by which you must abide._

 _-The sixteen heirs have been divided into 8 pairs. Pairs have been pre-decided, and may not be changed or traded._

 _-Each pair will receive a sum of $500,000 and an envelope containing their clues._

"Ебена мать," Natasha Romanoff mutters, ignoring Jiaying Johnson's sniff of distain. The lady was probably mad her youngest daughter got paired with the Russian. "Did he just say five hundred thousand?"

"I believe so, little lady," Coulson says, equally exited. He turns to his partner. "Aren't you glad you came now, May?"

The silent woman remains silent, staring straight ahead and allowing Ward to continue.

 _-There are two instances that would result in a forfeit. One: a player drops out. His or her pair must also leave the game and the pair must give up their money. Two: a player does not show up to a session. Their money will be forfeited and the clues will be held until the next session._

 _-Two days' notice will be given to the next session. Only then may pairs give their answer. Only one answer per pair._

 _-Object of the game: to win._

"Well, then. Now I'm supposed to give you the envelopes with the clues," Ward mumbles, fumbling with his papers once again. "Oh, wait I have to read the pairs out loud. Mr. Waters wanted to make sure no one cheats," he explains.

 _EIGHT. 1. CALVIN JOHNSON: vet_

 _WANDA MACKENZIE-MAXIMOFF: cook_

Jiaying and Mack both attempt to get the money from- uh _for_ their absent spouses, but Ward shakes his head. "Mr. Waters was very clear."

2\. _TREMORS JOHNSON: lumberjack_

 _NATASHA ROMANOFF: seamstress_

 _3._ _BRUCE BANNER: cake decorator_

 _DR. LEOPALD FITZ: lab tech and assistant to Dr. Franklin Hall on the hominid research project_

 _4._ _PHIL COULSON: doorman_

 _RAINA Z.: partner at Hand, Peterson and Sif_

 _5._ _JIAYING JOHNSON: heiress_

 _ALPHONSO MACKENZIE: restaurant owner_

 _6._ _MELINDA MAY: cleaner_

 _NICK FURY: delivery boy_

 _7._ _LINCOLN CAMPBELL: student_

 _ANTOINE TRIPLETT: track star_

 _8._ _DARCY LEWIS: paid intern_

 _JEMMA SIMMONS-JOHNSON: fiancé_

Everyone looks around, wondering if anyone had been stupid enough to try fooling Waters. No one had.

"Okay then," Ward says. "I'll just pass these out." He gives each pair an envelope, only stumbling twice over the slightly uneven carpet. "Right. Don't open them yet, please." He says this to Tremors, whose hand had been reaching out towards her team's envelope.

 _NINTH. Now, time for what you are all here for. The lawyer will now hand out the checks. Please note that while they can be cashed in at any time and split any way you wish, the money can only be received if both heirs have signed it. Fear not, my heirs, not one of you will need to sell your hair in the near future._

'Good' Tremors thinks. 'Cause that's not happening.' She does think the words sound familiar, though. Perhaps a quote.

 _TEN. Good job, my dears. Those of you who have managed to wake up on this fine day have made money. Let me promise you it will not be so easy from here on out._

Ward looks up, pleased with himself. He jumps a little when he notices the heirs are all staring at him. "Oh!" He exclaims. "You can open the envelopes now."

"What in the world…" Fitz mutters, glancing up at his partner. There are six scraps of paper in front of them, each word more baffling than the last.

Bruce smiles at him, trying to rearrange the words in to some sort of grammatical order. One of the papers flies of the table, landing next to Tremors and Natasha. Instinctively, Natasha picks it up, smiling at Bruce as she hands it to him. "Promise I didn't read it," she says lightly, shifting her gaze to the doctor- or was it assistant? - who was the boy's partner.

Leo nods at her, taking care to hide the rest of their clues.

Natasha rolls her eyes and turns back to Tremors, whispering the word to her partner. "Chance"

The other heirs were also more careful with their clues. In fact, one pair had not even opened their envelope. At the last table, Jemma and Darcy sat staring at the other heirs and trying to get clues as to what _their_ clues were.

Nick Fury, with a straight face for once, turns to his partner. "How depressing. But kinda obvious."

Melinda just shakes her head.

"Row, row, row your boat," Trip hums, making Lincoln hit his arm. Trip hisses. "Careful, man. You're turning into Tremors."

The girl in question whips around, ready to get up and hit both fools, but Natasha holds her back, pointing to one of their clues. "I don't think this is spelled correctly."

"You know what it means?"

"I think the usual terms are 'crap' and 'shit'."

"Oh!" Turtle exclaims, and switches a couple words around.

"No sense," Mack mutters. "Can we get a look at the will?" he asks loudly.

Raina answers him before Ward can. "A copy will be at the-"

"Actually, no. I was given strict instructions not to hand over a copy of the will until the game is over."

They couldn't see the will? How unfair, how horrible! How were they ever to figure out the clues without a- but they did have a copy, didn't they? A recorded version.

The heirs turned to Darcy in unison, looking at her beloved IPod with undisguised interest. She smiles as them, taking special care as she slipped it into her bag. "What? Me?" she asked coyly. "Well, Jemma and I must get going, I have a doctor's visit in half an hour."

"Wait!" The lawyer calls. "Before you go, I have to read the final statement."

 _ELEVEN. Don't understand a thing I've said? Well, by the time this will is being read to you all I'm already dead and almost cremated, so what do I know? Answer: everything you want to know. Do not fear, my dears. All will be known in due time. The blurred face of my killer will slowly come into sharp perspective, and he or she will be found!_

 _In the meantime, I ask you this question: Would you ever kill someone, or something?_

 _Whatever the answer, always remember: Buy Waters' water, the cleanest water in Watersville!_

* * *

 **Note: Ебена мать is "Holy shit" in Russian.**

 **Tell me what you think (:**


	8. Pairs Together (And Apart)

When the baffled heirs leave the Waters House, the grey day has morphed into a full-on storm. Running to their cars, the heirs create their own traffic on the already flooded roads.

The next day, the roads are so flooded that no one can even get down the driveway. The heirs were woken in the early hours of the morning by Tremors, rapping on their doors with a box of portable phone chargers. "I get it, Mr. Mack. The same thing happened to me this morning. I woke up, went to check my phone and lo and behold: it was turned off. Dead. During the night, the electricity went off, and it still hasn't returned. How will we survive without our smartphones, you may ask? Well, I'm here to tell you, you don't have to! Apple, Samsung, Windows, even Blackberry, I've got you covered. For just ten dollars- "

"Here," Mack cuts her off. He passes her a twenty-dollar bill, takes two chargers, and slams the door in Tremors' smiling face. Between Raina's _hundred_ (all her lawyer gizmos), Mack's twenty, her mother's five (family discount), the money she had gotten off Trip and Linc, and her half of the check (although she thought she might have to use that for something else) Tremors was well on the way to starting a retirement fund.

Soon after, the lights come back on. If Tremors' clients are angered, she is safely barricaded in Ms. Romanoff's apartment while they go over their clues. Actually, all of the heirs were at least thinking about their clues- other than Cal and Wanda, who had not received their clues yet.

Calvin Johnson was not even sure he _wanted_ to play the game. There had been a time when he would have gone just to get his half of the money, but that time was past. He did not need it now, however much Jiaying would like a little extra.

He is the only person thinking this way; everyone else is playing to win.

And to do that, the heirs need a copy of the will.

Darcy and Jemma are invited in for coffee at every apartment in SHEILD Towers other than Darcy's (because she couldn't invite herself in could she?) and the Hunter-Morse-Campbell-Banner's (how everyone in that family managed to have a different last name Darcy would never know). The conversations all seem to go something like this:

Your job? "Well, I was a paid intern to Ms. Jane Foster, the Nobel Prize winning scientist. She's working on a movie now, with her boyfriend Thor Odinson. Yes, the famous actor. I was supposed to be there as well, but now…" How sad. Your diagnosis? "They're giving me six months, longer with the treatments. I'm already losing my hair, so it must be working." Your recording. "Jemma and I have to go, the dear promised to help me around the building until I'm feeling a bit better." And on to the next apartment.

When that is done, the pair knock on the Morse-Hunter's door, which is opened by Bruce Banner in his wheelchair. "H-hi," he says steadily.

"May we come in?" Jemma asks, but the sentiment is lost as Darcy pushes past. The invalid seats herself on the couch, patting the space next to her. "Come on, Jemma. She's so proper," Darcy adds to Bruce.

Bruce laughs. Today was turning into an adventure, it seemed, with uninvited guests and murderers and clues and wills- all the possibilities were making his head spin. "T-ttea. In kitch-chen," he stammers, taking care to point in case they didn't understand. "And cak-ke."

Jemma gets up to serve the refreshments immediately. Darcy admires her partner's manners, her selflessness. If it were Darcy she would have just sat there until someone else managed to get it, even if the only people around were invalids.

"So, just putting this out there: I'm not the murderer, Jemma isn't the murderer, and we know you aren't the murderer."

Bruce nods. That much seemed obvious. No one would think he or Ms. Lewis was the killer because they were sick. And Jemma was just too nice to kill someone. "Wha isss W-aaann?"

"Wan?" Jemma asks excitedly, coming in with a tray. "W-A-N?" Bruce nods vigorously. "Like, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Both Bruce and Darcy look at her in surprise. "Star Wars guy?" Darcy asks.

Jemma looks scandalized, but bites her tongue. "He was in the Star Wars movies, yes."

Bruce looks confused. "Te-lll b-outt himm."

"Well, he was killed by Darth Vader in the first movie. Well, the fourth." Jemma sighs. "He was killed in the first movie of the original trilogy," she clarifies.

So this Obi-Wan guy was killed by an Evil Father, Bruce thinks. Interesting. "H-iss daad?"

"Oh, no. It was the main character's father, although we didn't know it then."

Who was the main character? Bruce ponders. It could have been Waters, he was the dead man. Or Tremors, she certainly demanded a lot of attention. But they were all heirs, it could have been any one of them. Bruce changes his tactics. "R-recoor-dingg."

As soon as half the word has left his mouth, Darcy is up and halfway to the door. "I've got to go. Meds and all," she excuses herself. "Come on, Jems. I need you to open the door for me."

"Right," Jemma says. "Sorry. Bye, Bruce."

Bruce nods, already deep in thought. The clues were easy enough to remember:

TRULY WAN I'M A CHANCE BEAT

Wan meant Obi-Wan, the guy who was killed by an evil father. Beat= music, which Tremors was always listening to. Tremors' father was a vet, he would have access to drugs that could kill a person, but to do so he would have to lie, which referred to truthfulness. Truth= truly. Bruce was not sure about 'chance' yet, but maybe Leo would have some idea. If he ever came over to talk about it, that was.

Bruce closes the door behind them, locking it securely. He wheels over to the window, binoculars bouncing against his chest. Banner immediately knows where to look. A curtain in the window of the Waters' House twitches.

* * *

Tremors Johnson thought she knew exactly what her clues meant.

I AM THE EVIL ON TERD

"I AM means will. . Evil is Live backwards, like the album Evilive by the Misfits. And I just realized 'ON' could be 'NO'. As in: No shit. Which leaves THE. I think he's referring to 'The The', which is another band."

"So everything relates to music. Or is a way of saying duh."

Tremors nods. "And Waters was all about money, about being number one. So you know what we have to do?"

"What?" Natasha asks, smiling. It was nice having a kid around, all that boundless energy and imagination.

"The Billboard charts. Now, in the last sentence of the will, Water's said the word 'water' four times. So we need to make the fourth song on the Charts, make it first and keep it there."

"How do we do that?"

"Well… we'll need to use the money to buy lots and lots of the track. And stream it on YouTube or Spotify a lot. And tell everyone you know to listen to it. And you can play it once or twice while you're seeing people, and then they'd want to hear it more and more because their brains would be singing the chorus over and over again."

Natasha looks amused. "Okay. What is it?"

Tremors taps her phone a couple times. "Desiigner- Panda," she says, looking up with a wicked smile.

* * *

"This makes more sense," Mack says, separating the words DANCE and REPEAT.

"You heard the doorman, it's repeat dance." Jiaying searches her brain for his name, but cannot find it. She has never bothered to learn it. Oh well, Jiaying does not really think it matters all that much. She puts it out of her head and puts the words back together again. Slowly, Jiaying notices a pale, smallish figure staring out the window. "Is she trying to get our clues?"

Mack looks around. "What? Wanda?" Mack shakes his head, looking back down at their clues. "She can't speak English."

"Are you sure?" Jiaying asks rudely. "How do you communicate then?"

Mack says something in a different language that's too profane to be translated.

"You learned Russian?"

"Sokovian."

Jiaying waves a hand, not wanting to divulge the fact that she had no idea where that was. "Same thing."

Mack clenches his fists briefly. Waters had a sense of humor, pairing him with this bigoted woman. "It's not."

"It doesn't matter. Do you remember what was on that girl's leggings yesterday? The one with cancer." Another name Jiaying had disregarded.

"Was I supposed to?" Mack asks sarcastically. Mack had been far too busy cursing Waters's soul.

"Every detail counts," Jiaying says aloofly. "She was wearing black leggings which had female dancers on them, loads right next to each other."

Mack shakes his head. "How exactly do you think Waters knew she was going to show up wearing those?"

Jiaying ignores his last comment.

A DANCE REPEAT TRULY I'LL

"I'll means 'I will'."

"I know."

"Are any of the heirs named Will?" Jiaying asks.

"No."

* * *

The money was the most important thing for Lincoln and Trip. So that got done first. Half for Trip's car fund, the other half would go to the bakery. And then the clues:

WHO OR WHAT I TO ROW

"Questions," Linc mutters. "They're questions."

"Yeah but what are the answers?" Trip, sitting on the other side of the table, locks in on one word. "Hey, what's OHW mean?"

Lincoln looks it up. "It's a shoe company or an abbreviation for One Hit Wonder. Why?"

Trip turns WHO 180 degrees. "Got anything now?"

"Something, maybe. I need more time."

Trip gets up, staring to jog in place. "Great, call me when you figure it out." He jogs out, planning to run up and down the stairs for the rest of the day.

* * *

After an hour-long drive through the eye of the storm (at six a.m.), Raina Z was 'stormed in' at the law office where she worked. It was not the worst place to be; they still had power and the coffee stand in downstairs in the lobby was open for business. Upstairs was a restaurant, also open. Turned out people in Waterstown were still influenced by the workaholic behaviors of one Steve Waters, even now that he was dead.

Raina did not feel as productive as usual, with the clues running around her brain. And hell if she knew what they meant.

KEEP CORE THEY WILL DO

Waters knew how to write, yet these supposed clues made almost no sense. Which meant his options were limited, which meant their clues were all a part of something bigger.

But how to get all the heirs to pool their clues? That was the real question, not who may or may not have killed Mr. Waters. And did it really matter? If Waters was murdered, the man got what was coming to him.

"Thinking about those clues?" Grant asked her, making Raina jump. Hot coffee sloshed out of the lid and handed on her new white shirt. "Oh shit! I'm sorry!"

Raina sighs. These days, Grant seemed to be everywhere. "I'm fine." She wasn't really, but 'fine' was decidedly better than 'on the verge of a malfunction'. "I've got another shirt in my office."

"I can get it for you," Ward offers.

Raina internally grimaces, thinking about the state of her office after a run-in with the office klutz. "No, it's fine."

"At least let me buy you dinner. You worked straight through breakfast and lunch."

"Grant, we can't keep doing this." Raina turns around to leave, but Ward takes her arm.

"We can have dinner, Raina. No expectations other than a little conversation. I always feel weird eating alone in public."

"I've got a lot of work to do."

"Come on, do me this one favor. I'm a lawyer who has to work as an assistant at a law firm to pay rent. I'm sad enough."

Raina thinks for a moment. What harm could one meal do? It wasn't like they _had_ to take it further. "Fine. Just let me change my shirt."

* * *

Jemma sits down next to the envelope of clues and a script. "That for Ms. Foster?"

"No. They're giving me a part in her and lover boy's movie."

"Cool." Jemma tries out the word, feeling it on her tongue. "Anyway, let's start with the clues." She opens the envelope and holds it out to Darcy. "You take one first."

Darcy nods, hesitantly pulling out a clue. "Save."

Jemma pulls out the second: Shouldn't

They alternate, until all the words have been pulled out.

I'LL SAY SHOULDN'T IS TO SAVE

"Now put it together with the others."

"I'll say shouldn't is to save depressing but obvious repeating dances row, row, row, your boat crap or shit Wan," Jemma says aloud. "Doesn't exactly make sense."

"No," Darcy says, thinking. "Get anything from your mother or Tremors?"

"No, their rooms were locked up tight. Sorry, Darcy." The doorbell rings. "I'll get it." Jemma quickly unlocks the door and throws it open while Darcy hides their clues. "It's Lincoln," she calls back to Darcy.

The teenager is holding a small notepad and a pencil. "Anyone want to play a game of tic-tack-toe?"

"No!" Darcy calls.

"But thank you," Jemma adds, closing the door. There are a whole lot of locks on that thing. "Why don't we listen to the recording?"

"Yeah, sure. Just let me find my iPod." Darcy looks around, a little lazily at first but then almost franticly. "Where is it?!" Her and Jemma comb the apartment, looking for her iPod. After an hour of searching they finally give up. "Shit!" Darcy curses. "One of those bastards stole it!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and please review!**


	9. Texts and Tidbits

Darcy Lewis was, understandably, pissed.

So much so that the next morning she created a group chat with all the other heirs- using Jemma's phone, of course:

 **Darcy: SOMEONE STOLE my IPod. NOT COOL BITCHEZ. I had like 1000 songs on there. Just give it back, K? IF NOT YOU WILL ENSUE THE WRATH OF DARC**

 **-Jemma: What my partner means is, if anyone finds her IPod, plz give it back to her. Thx.**

 **-Darcy: Srsly?**

 **-Jemma: Yea**

 **-Darcy: Fine. Whatevs. Just give back my shiz.**

No one gave back the IPod, but the idea of an "heir's only" group chat caught on pretty quickly. By noon, seven more messages had been sent, not counting the replies:

 **Mrs. Johnson: Stop using so much power, the lights have gone off twice this week. Jemma's hair gets limp if it isn't washed. Thank you, a concerned resident of SHIELD Towers.**

 **-Tremors: Mom, u know it says who u r. LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Jemma: It's not that bad, Mom**

(Still, the power did not go off again)

 **Lincoln: (And Trip): Players interested in pooling clues come 2 bakery Saturday 8**

 **-Darcy: +Jemma: B there**

 **-Nat and Tremors: Us 2. LISTEN TO PANDA-DESIIGNER!**

 **-Lincoln: How'd u do that ^ We couldn't make it say both our names**

 **-Nat and Tremors: Magic. LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Raina: I think we can b sure that everyone is coming**

The lawyer was correct.

 **Tremors: HEY! WHOEVER TOOK MY EARBUDS BETTER HAND 'EM OVER! SRSLY! I NEED THEM!- LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Natasha: Found pair in apartment. Not urs but want 'em?- LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Tremors: I guess :'( Thx Nat- LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Natasha: No probs. We'll find ur old ones- LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

Mack thought the group chat would be a good way to promote his business, so:

 **Mack: COME TO MACK'S PIZZA. Top floor- great view. NOW WITH DESSERTS.**

 **-Darcy: Wasn't it Makenzie-Maximoff's Grill last week?**

 **-Trip: Changed name+ menu. Now I get to ice cupcakes. Fun.**

 **-Bruce: Yes. Is fun (:**

 **-Wanda: Hi (; !**

 **-Mack: she doesn't speak English**

Next came a collection of texts best described as 'random letters typed as if they where one, huge word', and was again from Wanda.

 **Nat: LOST: one pair, black earbuds. If found please return to Tremors Johnson, Apartment 3D. LOST: one arrow necklace, if found please return to Natasha Romanoff, Apartment 2C. Not worth much but has great sentimental value. LOST: one box of red hair dye. If found please return to Tremors Johnson, 3D. LISTEN TO PANDA- DESIIGNER!**

 **-Lincoln: Why do you keep saying that?**

While Lincoln was asking a legitimate question, Trip found his 'in' to exact revenge.

 **Trip: FOUND: SIX CLUES**

 **KICKING QUAKE HAS H AND TREMORS**

 **-Lincoln: Dude. Not cool**

Later that day Trip could be seen cradling a severely bruised arm. Both Trip and Mack were wearing slings the next day (Mack had tried icing the cupcakes, with disastrous results- something about the tip shooting out along with a blob of icing and ricocheting off the wall).

 **Raina: I am having an informal gathering tonight at 9, apartment 4D. Everyone is invited. Please RSVP with my assistant, Grant Ward 123-456-7890 (yes, that is actually his number)**

 **-Mack: Need catering?**

 **-Raina: Yes, actually. I'll have Grant call you.**

 **Jiaying: Tremors- REMEMBER: b home by 8:30 SHARP!**

(Oddly enough, this was the only text which did not receive a reply.)

"You _should_ go home," Natasha muses, glancing at her phone. "She's in charge of you."

"She shouldn't be. All she cares about is Jemma and getting her married off young." Tremors rolls her eyes. "And getting her face done."

Pushing a smile off her face, Natasha replies: "Well she is your mother. Come on, I'll take you."

Even though her apartment is only one floor up, Tremors agrees. "But it's only six, so can I say a while?"

Natasha thinks for a moment before agreeing. "You can stay for dinner. Should we order up or down?"

"Down," Tremors replies immediately. "I've already made Linc listen to the song a million times. Time to get Trip."

Natasha doesn't take any chances. "Fine. Just remember to keep your thumb outside your fist. I don't want to explain to your mother how you dislocated your thumb in my apartment. And is you lean in _with_ your arm instead of against it you'll get more power."

Tremors smiles. "Thanks, Nat."

Natasha does not look at her when she answers. "You're welcome."

* * *

When Tremors does go back to her apartment, no one is home yet. It's eight thirty on the dot, Tremors having stayed in Natasha's apartment for as long as possible.

Her mother gets home at eight forty-five. "Tremors! Oh, you're here." Jiaying's face twists itself into a very ugly smile. She was beautiful, no doubt, but there was a certain distance between Jiaying and her youngest daughter that made any interaction seem forced. "I bought you a new dress for the party, dear."

Tremors frowns. "Why?"

Jiaying lets out a short, high, moderately evil laugh. Tremors is almost surprised it doesn't thunder right then and there. "Do I have to have a reason?"

Tremors wonders where that quote is from. "Yes."

Jiaying sighs. "Well, Jemma's old things are all either too childish or don't fit. Or both. And I thought this suited you." Jiaying holds up a purple dress- Tremors touches the ends of her hair hesitantly, also a purple color- and hands it to her daughter. "Go put it on."

Tremors does as she is told, if only to avoid any unpleasantness.

"You look beautiful," Jiaying croons when Tremors comes out of her closet room. She did, but what Jiaying said next ruined it. "You know, it hurts me that you won't tell your own mother your clues."

Tremors takes a breath. Of course. "They're not just mine, mom. It wouldn't be fair to Tasha to tell you." Before Jiaying can open her mouth, she continues: "I'd better get going, it's almost nine. I'm going with Tasha. And the dress makes me cold." Tremors grabs her itchy cardigan and leaves, not waiting for her mother to catch up.

* * *

"So, Grant, let Lincoln serve the food, you'll need to do the drinks because he's not of age."

"Yes, ma'am," Gran replies with a sarcastic eye-roll.

"But if no one is ordering drinks, take a tray around."

"I will."

"Okay."

Raina straightens her dress—red silk with black velvet flowers, a V-neck and long sleeves— and takes a sip of something that is decidedly not water.

The party was about to begin…

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review, follow, and favorite!**


	10. Party People

If Jemma felt bad for not going to the party with her mother, she didn't show it. Darcy was secretly pleased, as she felt Jiaying was way to up in Jemma's business. Not to mention having the gorgeous, intelligent babe next to her attracted even more attention to the invalid.

Everyone had shown up, doing their best to find the clues to the other pair's clues. Of course, everyone already knew about Tremors' and Natasha's sudden interest in Panda, so of course the song was played on repeat. No one knew what half the words where except maybe Tremors (she always looked them up) but whatever. They could at least pretend to and throw off everyone else.

"Mr. Ward," Jiaying says, just recognizing the lawyer. "What are you doing here?"

Ward looks pointedly to the tray of hors d'oeuvres he is carrying. "I'm Raina's assistant."

Jiaying bristles, glancing at Raina. She had always thought there was something off about her, and now she knew. Raina was in cahoots with Waters's lawyer! Who wasn't even a lawyer in the first place! "Well that doesn't mean you have to cater her parties."

"Oh, I'm just serving these. And she's paying me. I was going to work the bar as well but Lincoln and Triplett stole it right from under me," Grant continues, but Jiaying has stopped listening. She wanders back to her husband.

"Why did I have to come to this. I'm not even going to play," Cal wines, shuffling about uncomfortably in his new suit. One that actually fit, Jiaying notes with a satisfactory glance.

"Don't say that," Jiaying coos. "Five-hundred thousand dollars, and we'll need the money for Tremors' education."

Cal glances at his younger daughter. She seemed happier lately, maybe because she had stopped spending time with her mother. "Half of 500,000. The other half is Mrs. Maximoff's," Cal corrects his wife absentmindedly. He misses Jiaying's dismissive eye-roll completely. "I wonder if it's possible to create something that automatically translates any speech so the person could understand it," he muses. "An eye-implant, maybe? Or a chip in the brain?"

Jiaying hits his arm softly. "Will you stop with your crazy ideas, Calvin?"

Cal does not bristle at the mention of his full name. "You used to enjoy hearing them," Cal says as he stalks off.

Raina watches carefully this exchange carefully, gears turning. The Johnsons were definitely a very interesting family, and Mr. Johnson seemed like a very interesting man; he did not seem to want to play the game, money be damned, and was never really around. He spent most of his time either downstairs in his office or at the pet hospital doing surgery. Or somewhere else; there were no witnesses to vouch that Cal was really where he said.

"Thor Odinson," Darcy finishes dramatically, pulling Raina back into the conversation.

"That's very interesting," Raina says with a slight smile, turning to Bobbi Morse and Lance Hunter. The only two residents of Shield Towers who were not heirs. "And how is your bakery?"

"Brilliant," Hunter replies. Raina has heard his voice before and therefore knows he is British but it is still a bit jarring for her brain.

Bobbi nods. "We weren't sure it would work here but it's doing great."

"And how did you meet?" Raina inquires next. They were her witnesses, and with enough pressing they would answer her.

Bobbi and Hunter look at each other briefly, starting to laugh a bit. "We were both volunteering at a Boys and Girls Club."

"Not so coincidentally the one where Linc used to go to," Bobbi interjects. "We basically got married so we could foster the kid."

"And so your mother would be okay with us living together," Hunter adds.

Bobbi half-shrugs. "That too."

Raina chuckles, swiftly scanning the crowd for the next pair to question. She is brought back into the conversation with Bobbi and Lance, however, when Bobbi says: "Who was it that you where dating before me? Mary something? Mary Sue—"

"Mary Sue Waters? The cellist?" Raina interrupts.

Lance nods somberly, taking a sip of his drink. "Waters's daughter."

He and Raina exchange a glance, and Raina realizes… and she has to get out of there.

"Well, I'd better go check on Ward at the bar. He… he gets distracted," Raina says, rushing away.

"What was that about?' Bobbi asks her husband quietly. Lance just shakes his head.

At the bar, Ward is pouring Darcy a glass of wine—a _tall_ glass. Something nags at the back of Raina's mind, but she pushes it away.

"How's everything going?" Raina asks no one in particular.

Darcy, for once, isn't keen on answering and moves back to the other corner, where Jemma has gathered a small crowd. After she gets her drink, of course.

"Good. Pizza bites are almost gone, same with the garlic knots. No marinara was double-dipped in the erasure of these foodstuffs."

"Well, that's really the whole point, isn't it?"

"Better get one before they're gone." Ward waves the half-empty tray under her nose.

Raina shakes her head. "Just a glass of red."

"Coming up."

"You know, you're not too bad behind a bar. No tripping; no stuttering. No spontaneous spilling of liquids."

"Yeah," Grant passes her a glass of white. Okay, maybe he wasn't that good either. "Better get back to mingling."

"Don't remind me," Raina mutters, plastering on a smile and venturing back into the party.

* * *

Aside from Raina, at least one other person was decidedly _not_ enjoying the party.

Tremors was sitting on a chair in the corner. Natasha was standing not too far away, but she was talking to Mack.

The only other person she might have talked to was her father, but Cal Johnson was talking to his partner.

"Mill." Johnson pointed out Waters's Mill to his partner. His logic: if people started speaking to Wanda in English, she might pick up a few words.

"Mill," Wanda repeated.

"House."

"House."

"Lake."

"Lake."

Johnson noticed a man running around the circumference at the lake. "Runner."

"Pietro," Wanda says sadly.

"Sure. Let's call him Pietro," Cal laughed.

Tremors watched this exchange enviously. Without her father there to talk to, she was alone.

Maybe it was something to do with the punching, but that was the only way Tremors could effectively get people to stop looking at her with their eyes.

And their pity.

Jiaying, breaking away from a conversation with the doorman, notices her husband talking to that young, pretty, foreign girl. Which is just what Jiaying had been when Cal had met her, but that wasn't the point.

She starts forward, thinking of how she was going to pry her husband far away from that woman—only to see Tremors sitting by herself in a corner.

Ugh, that girl was making her look bad. Again!

"Could you at least smile?" Jiaying hisses, effectively throwing Tremors from her chair.

Tremors takes a moment to regain her balance. She glares at her mother with nothing short of hatred, but Jiaying remains unaffected.

"Stand up straight, get yourself a drink, and go talk to someone," Jiaying orders, pushing her daughter forward. "Look at Jemma."

Tremors glanced at her sister spitefully. Jemma was laughing prettily at something that Lincoln Campbell had said. Looking at them, Tremors felt the sudden urge to go up there and punch her sister. Hard. She loved Jemma, really, but sometimes… well, it would have been nice to see her be imperfect for once.

Tremors leaves her corner, but ends up in the kitchen, sniffling.

Then someone taps her on the shoulder and she almost passes out.

"I wasn't—"

Melinda May nods, squeezing Tremors shoulder lightly. The cleaning lady glances over her own shoulder before leading Tremors into the laundry room, which was more private.

"Here," she says, passing Tremors a hand towel.

Tremors takes it and wipes away a couple of stray tears before using the towel to muffle a painful scream.

A couple of seconds later, Melinda steps away from the sink so that Tremors can wash her face.

"There," Melinda says after a moment. "Ready to go back out there?"

After a second, Tremors nods. "Thank you," she whispers, leaving.

Melinda makes a silent vow to make the person who caused such pain to that beautiful girl pay.

* * *

Outside of Shield Towers, Trip was running. He doubted anyone noticed his absence, but that didn't really matter.

What mattered was the meet he had in less than a week, and making sure he was ready for that.

His father's insults echo throughout his mind. It wasn't really Mack's fault, Trip thought, but he needed the motivation to keep going.

So that's what he did.

* * *

 **A/N: If you can't tell, I hate Jiaying with all of my being. I truly think that she is the worst person who has ever been on the show, including John Garrett. Even Hive was better than her.**

 **Aside from that, thanks for reading.**

 **Note: I'll admit it: I have too many fics going (seven!). So I'm going to focus on this one (because I actually have a plan for it. Kind of) until it is finished and then go back to the others. So if you read any of my other fics and are wondering why I'm updating this one more often, it is because I'm trying to finish it. On the bright side, I'm going to update this more!**

 **Anyway, have a great week. Or something. *awkwardly leaves***

 ***runs back*** ***falls down*** ***gets up* Oh yeah, and please review. *leaves again***


	11. The Meeting

Tremors knocked on Tasha's door fiercely, as if she was trying to bruise the wood. In the other hand, she held a hairbrush.

"Can you help me?" she asked as soon as Natasha opened the door.

"Come in, myshka," Tasha says, letting Tremors in.

"Thanks." Tremors takes a small, odd-shaped packet out of her pocket. "Hair gel. It's a dye," she explains.

Natasha reads the instructions carefully, letting Tremors sit down in one of her kitchen chairs. "So that's how you do it," Tasha mutters. "It's not real dye."

"It is, sometimes," Tremors says. "These are just cheaper."

Natasha shakes her head, starting to apply the gel to the purple-colored sections of Tremors's hair. "This can't be good for your hair. And you have such nice hair." Natasha sighs.

"Yours is really nice though. It's different."

 _That just makes it easier to see me_ , Natasha thinks. "So many compliments, myshka. First you let me fix your hair, then you say you like mine. Next you're going to tell me your name."

"Skye," Tremors— _Skye_ —says out of the blue.

"Skye. That's a beautiful name. For a beautiful girl." She pauses. "Okay, I'm done."

Tremors shakes her head. "Jemma's the pretty one. Everyone says so. Anyway, thanks, Tasha. We should get going. Remember, we're not giving up our clues, even if everyone else does."

Natasha sighs sadly and touches the place where her arrow necklace should be. _Oh, Clint. I bet you would know how to help her._

Then she shakes her head and locks the door behind them.

* * *

The bakery smelt nice in the morning. Bruce had forgotten that smell. It was _really_ good. Even though he was still in the bakery, Banner already missed the sent.

Bruce was by far the most relaxed of the heirs. Everyone else was wound up tight, clutching scraps of paper in their pockets or recalling the spellings of words in their heads.

Only Fury, Wanda, and Fitz where absent (although Cal maintained that he was only there to get coffee).

While the heirs where busy assembling themselves, Lance and Bobbi handed out coffee, tea, and breakfast pastries. Only Mack, who was angrily boycotting the bakery's goods and had come only for the potential clues, refused to buy anything.

The storm had returned to do yet more damage, it seemed. Raina and Cal were worrying about getting back into town when the meeting was over, because what they could see of the roads already looked flooded.

When the pastries were eaten and their drinks where growing cold, the heirs looked at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak.

Lincoln took this as his moment, and stood up carefully. "Thanks for coming, everyone. When we finish the meeting, everyone can stay for a tic-tac-toe tournament. Anyway, Trip and I called this meeting because— well, our clues make literally no sense."

No one breathed for a second.

"So, um, we thought, maybe they were part of a bigger message. So, you know, the more clues we put together, the better chances we have. And the fortune would be split evenly among those who choose to pool their clues." Linc adds the last part to make sure no one gets any ideas about the money. Jiaying and Mack were looking a bit too interested in his opinion.

Darcy clears her throat. Loudly.

"Darcy?" Linc asks out of courtesy.

"Yeah?"

There's a silence. "Well, where you going to—"

"Give you my recording? Possibly. I'll have to think about it." The former paid intern now upcoming movie star says with a smirk.

A lot can be said about Phil Coulson. One could say that he wears an identical suit every day. They would be correct. One could also say that he had a distinctively 'accountant' vibe. They would also be correct. And if one where to say that he knew when to draw his hand, they would be spot on.

"How would you accomplish that without this?" he snarks, holding up Darcy's baby.

Three seconds is all it takes. "You STOLE my IPOD! Prepare to DIEEE!" Darcy shrieks, throwing herself at the man.

Mack is the first one to react. He smiles a little at first, amused. Then he gets up and starts to pry the woman off of the doorman, because she was actually pretty strong for a sick person. "Whoa, careful now," he says when Darcy tries to turn on him. "Take a minute. Calm down."

"Yeah, I think one murder is enough," Tremors laughs. Natasha elbows her lightly, trying not to laugh herself. "What? We're all thinking it."

Darcy glares at them all, cradling her iPod like it was…

"Sweet Baby Jesus!" Coulson curses. Well, comes close to cursing. Kind of.

"Your nose is bleeding," Jemma mutters, getting a tissue out of her bag and hurrying over to him. Coulson tries to tilt his head back but Jemma stops him. "Forward's better," she informs him. "Your nose looks like it's okay, did she punch it?"

Coulson shakes his head.

"Probably not broken then. If it starts to swell up or you have trouble breathing, go see a doctor."

Coulson nods and Jemma returns to her seat, happy that her patient received proper care and good advice.

"Can we deal with the matter at hand?" Linc asks, quieting the whispers of conversation that had broken out. "Did Mr. Coulson listen to the recording of the will?" he asks intensely.

"No," Darcy and Coulson say at the same time.

Coulson checks his nose has stopped bleeding then explains. "It's got a password. An actual letters and numbers password."

Darcy nods proudly. "And if you enter the wrong one ten times in a row it wipes clean."

Coulson nods. "I only tried once. And I would also like to say that I didn't mean to take it; you left your phone at the Waters House."

Darcy, blushing a bit, sits down.

"Okay," Linc nods, happy that no one was going to attempt _another_ murder in the next few minutes—although you never really knew with Darcy. "So can we use your copy of the will if we give you a… five percent higher share of the inheritance?"

Darcy nods quickly. It was better than she had expected.

"Great. So will anyone pool their clues?"

Everyone looks at everyone else. No one says anything.

Eventually, Linc sighs. "Okay, then. How about this: we all have questions, right?"

Some of the heirs nod. Some of them do nothing.

"So how about we write them down— _anonymously—_ and we make a deal to answer them all truthfully."

Everyone nods.

"Great."

Pieces of paper are passed around, as well as pencils.

Linc is the one to read them, as he has been made unofficially in charge. "Has anyone here recorded a song?" That was his question, pertaining to One Hit Wonders.

No one answers.

"What's Tremors's name?" Trip was planning another text.

"Skye," says Tasha definitively.

"Daisy," Jiaying says at the same time. She turns to Natasha. "I'm her mother, I would know."

Trip changes his mind. 'Daisy' and 'Skye' where too pretty for the kind of sign he was planning.

"Has anyone here actually met Steve Waters?"

Jiaying half-raises a hand, while Mack raises his and keeps it there. Raina doesn't respond, as it is her own question.

"Who hurt their arm last month?"

Bruce's question does not get answered, because that is when Lance screams.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you like! Am I the only one who imagines Darcy getting even with Coulson for stealing her iPod?**


	12. The First Fire

"FIRE!" Lance yells, running out of the kitchen. "Holy fucking shit! Bob, are you alright?"

Bobbi appears, still calm. She shuts the door to the kitchen, because she heard that helped to stop the spread of the fire or something. "Yes. Everyone, please head into the lobby. And if someone could please call the fire department?"

"They won't get through in time; the roads are flooded," Mack says with a hint of contempt. Just a bit, though.

Bobbi ignores him. "Linc, could you please help Bruce?" Bobbi asks.

She didn't need to: Lincoln was already pushing Bruce's wheelchair halfway to the door.

Everyone else was equally eager to get out. When someone yells 'FIRE' it's usually a good idea to get out of that general vicinity.

Darcy was the one to call the fire department, thanks to a handy phone app on her trusty iPod, not that anyone noticed.

Trip was the one who ran outside so that he could tell the firefighters where to go when they got there.

Tremors shut the door to the Bakery itself just to make sure.

Everyone else just kind of stood around and waited, except for a couple of residents who quietly fled upstairs, either too ovoid the police or out of disinterest.

"What happened?" Raina, always the lawyer, asks.

"I was icing cupcakes; the oven wasn't even on. And I went to go get a new piping bag and there was a fire. It started growing pretty fast," Lance recalls. "I shouted fire and ran out with Bobbi."

Bobbi nods. "We couldn't see where it came from, it was growing too fast."

Raina nods. "Thank you." She fishes her card out of a pocket. "If you need legal help."

Bobbi nods. "I hope there isn't too much damage. We're going to have to close for a while though. To clean up, at least."

"I can help," Jemma offers right away.

Jiaying shakes her head, head bent over a phone. "No, you have a dress fitting tomorrow. And we'll have to find another bakery…" Jiaying continues on her wedding tangent, even though no one is really listening.

"It's fine, sweetheart," Hunter promises. Jemma looked absolutely gutted at Jiaying's words. "We've got insurance. Haven't we, Bob?"

"Yeah, Hunter," Bobbi says while absentmindedly smoothing Lincoln's hair down. She did that when she was nervous.

The other two Johnsons have migrated to a corner. Cal and Tremors are like that sometimes. When it got really interesting and Jiaying got into the thick of it all (of course dragging Jemma along), those two stayed back and watched it all unfold.

"Who do you think did it?" Tremors asked carefully. She looked at all the remaining heirs in turn. Natasha wasn't anywhere to be seen, sadly.

Cal started awake from whatever dream world he had been inhabiting to ask: "What?"

"Someone must have started the fire. Which one do you think did it?"

"You know, I'm not sure, Daisy. I don't think I know anyone well enough to make that deduction."

Tremors nods. "I think it was Mack. He's always talking about how much he hates the coffee shop."

"Really?" Cal asks interestedly. "Why?"

Tremors smiles. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Later, after the fire department had come and gone, Jemma took Tremors over to Darcy's apartment.

Tremors was down. Natasha hadn't come back from whatever hole she had disappeared down, and the roads had finally cleared, so Coulson had gone home. Plus, she wasn't really on good enough terms with May to go to her, even after the incident at the party.

Which left her mooching around the apartment, getting on Jiaying's nerves.

Eventually, Jemma just took pity as always and dragged her sister out of there. "Please… try to be nice."

Tremors salutes her, smirking. "Nice is my middle name, Jems."

"No, you don't have a middle name."

Tremors sighs. "I was joking."

Jemma elbows her lightly, opening the door to Darcy's apartment. "So was I."

"Ha. Ha. Ha," Tremors replies dryly, walking in.

Darcy was sitting at the table, looking at their clues again. Once she saw the little brat—uh, Tremors—walk in, Darcy yelled and threw herself over the scraps of paper dramatically.

Tremors throws up her hands. "I come in peace."

Jemma nods, leading Tremors over to the couch. "I invited her. Let me put these away for you, eh?" She quickly collects their slips of paper, shoving them in a drawer.

The second drawer in the dresser closest to the door, Tremors makes herself remember.

Darcy catches her starring. "I have four locks on my door. Don't even try it."

"Wasn't going to. It's Jems you've got to watch. Mom thinks she's the one who took your IPod."

"I wasn't!"

" _I_ know that. Mom thinks you did." Tremors likes correcting people, especially today. Panda had dropped to sixth this week.

"Coulson owned up to it," Darcy says with a half, shrug. "And I've got her back now, that's all that matters." Darcy can't think it was Jemma, because then she would be alone in the game.

Tremors nods slowly, touching the earbuds—not hers, sadly—strung around her neck. "I get that."

Darcy and Tremors seem to connect in that moment, leaving Jemma out completely. She can't help but feel a little jealous.

* * *

Steve Waters's game was one of revenge. And it was one of the heirs that Waters had planned to exact revenge upon.

Which one, though?

That was Raina's dilemma. She had to find the real victim, and make sure Waters did not win this game.

Ward was her go-to for information, so Raina had tasked him with fining anything related to the Waters in the news.

She learnt a couple things.

1\. Mack had sued Mr. Waters for stealing his design of some kind of gear used to make his Mill run faster, to create more energy. He had lost the suit.

2\. Lance Hunter was listed as Audrey Waters's date to one event prior to her suicide.

3\. Tremors was the spitting image of Audrey Waters.

But Ward could only exact so much information, Raina found. Soon he hit a dead end of useless contracts and patents. Anyway, he was much too close to the whole thing, and it was probably a conflict of interest to have Grant looking for all these things.

She would have to hire someone who could find more sensitive information.

Raina got out her phone. She was kind of surprised it still had battery, but whatever.

"Siri, find the closest Private I."

Siri misheard her and searched 'Private eye'.

To Raina's surprise, there was an actual result. She looked at the name and almost dropped her phone. Was it…?

Only one way to find out.

Raina dials the number.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hey, if you're looking for a stormed in PI, you've got the right number."

And Raina's suspicions where confirmed.

* * *

 **Hi... please remember to review/follow/favorite. Obnoxious unnecessary reminders aside, thanks for reading. Really.**


	13. The Second Fire

Wanda was standing at the window when the arsonist sneaked into the kitchen.

He or she set up the fire expertly behind a bag of flour, making sure it wouldn't start until six on the dot. By that time, Wanda would be on the other side of the kitchen, cooking, so no one would be hurt.

 **Jiaying: Because of the damage to the Bakery, Mack's Pizza will be open for business breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Come up or order down. Now has dessert.**

Jiaying sent out the text as her first official marketing strategy pertaining to her new job as Hostess.

Mack almost had to drag Wanda away from the window, but he eventually found the right words. The rush hour was about to start.

Where was Trip?

The missing son eventually showed up, unprepared of course. "How was I supposed to know we're opening early?"

"Logic. Now go get dressed. And take a shower!"

Trip turned and ran back down the stairs to their apartment, mumbling craziness.

"Children," Jiaying scoffed, straightening her menus.

"Yeah, well, you've got Jemma," Mack pointed out.

Jiaying rolled her eyes. "The other one more than makes up for it. Sometimes I wish I knew what went wrong with that one." It had eaten away at her for years.

"Children aren't easy. We can't program them or make them the way we want."

Jiaying turned away before replying: "No, we can't."

* * *

Only Bobbi and Hunter ordered down. All the other residents of Shield Towers hopped on the elevator and came up to the restaurant.

Jiaying fancied herself a matchmaker of sorts, pairing up the heirs how she saw fit. If Uncle Waters could do it, so could she!

Darcy was shown to a chair first, as she looked quite haggard, leaning against the wall like that. Then Bruce, with her, because his chair took up too much space in the line. The two invalids together. Jiaying was quite pleased with herself for figuring that one out.

Darcy was understandably angry, given the arrangement, so she decided that her and Bruce would have a great time and everyone else would be out of their minds with jealousy.

"Who puts spinach on pizza?" she scoffed. "That undermines the whole foundation of a greasy, unhealthy, delicious triangle of goodness! It's an outrage!"

Bruce laughs. "W-whad a-bout pin-nap-p-p-ple?"

Darcy pauses, thinking. "Well, that's actually good. Plus, it's sugary. What I'm most worried about is the principle. What's next, kale?!"

They both laugh pretty loud, but no one is envious.

* * *

Lincoln watches his brother laugh with Ms. Lewis. Or was it Darcy? He couldn't quite remember what the twenty-something had asked to be called. It was hard, sometimes, when a person was so close in age, but technically an adult.

"They seem happy," Jemma says almost sadly, also observing. But when Lincoln turns back to her, she is smiling widely.

Jemma has a nice smile.

Lincoln is slightly in awe of her. "Yeah." Only slightly.

"So, are you going to college?"

"Uh… maybe? I'm not sure. The doctors want to do a surgery on Bruce; they think that it would help. But it's really expensive, and with the Bakery closed…" he lets himself trail off.

"But it will open again, right?"

"Yeah, but we're really losing business. And this pizza is actually really good."

Jemma nods. "But I bet your cakes are better."

Linc chuckles. "They used to be really nice-looking, too. Bruce was quite the piping master." Jemma looks confused. "He wasn't always… like this. Or, it wasn't this bad. His hands only really got bad last year."

"Maybe Fitz knows a trail or something." Jemma internally kicks herself. Linc wasn't asking for handouts. She changed the subject. "I went to college for about a year. I was going to be a biochemist," she announces, a little too proudly. Jemma immediately deflates herself. "But it was too expensive, all that school. And mother didn't like it… so I quit. Dropped out."

"You could always go back."

Jemma shakes her head. "I'm getting married. It isn't my place."

"Who told you that?"

"Mother. I know, it's old fashioned, but she really wants the best for me."

Linc nods, but he looks bothered. "I want to be a writer. Which is a step up from my childhood dream. When I was ten, I wanted to be an electrician."

* * *

Natasha Romanoff was rather mysterious, when you got down to the facts. She was quite young—a little too young to be a seamstress, Raina thought—and rather pretty. Smart, too. Very smart, but quietly so, which was smart in itself. Natasha was fit too, again, too fit for a seamstress.

Tonight, Romanoff seemed nervous. Natasha had insisted upon sitting in the corner, with her back to the wall. Common tactical move; she could see everyone in front of her and there was no possibility of an attack from behind.

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you at the party."

Natasha picks at a corner of her pizza. There was something strange there, and it made Raina think she was the one Waters was after. "It's fine. It was a good party."

Raina senses her witness closing off—she has to initiate a line of conversation, and fast. "You're making Jemma Simmons-Johnson's wedding dress, right?"

Natasha smiles. "Yes. It's nice and simple, because she's already so pretty, we don't want to distract from that."

"Have you always made clothes, as well as altering them?"

"Well, I used to have a partner who handled the alterations. But he left when his brother died, to take care of their family's farm in Kansas."

Raina nods. Something was off about the story, but she doesn't investigate this line of question further. "Every have any… _interesting_ clients."

Natasha pauses, swallowing. Now was the moment of truth. "Well…" Natasha's voice drops about twenty decibels. "My first job, actually. Tremors reminds me of her, so much."

Raina feels like she knows where this is going. But she isn't sure until Natasha says:

"I made Audrey Waters's wedding dress, before she died."

* * *

Cal Johnson was a little late to dinner, at least compared to everyone else. "Hey, honey," he greeted Jiaying smiling. Something had gone very right today.

"Hello. Would you like a table?"

"Sure."

Jiaying leads him over to where Tremors is sitting, alone, listening to music. She was watching where Natasha and Raina were sitting, and wondering why Tasha hadn't told her she was back.

"Is this okay?" Jiaying asks, forgetting to ask the occupant.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll make it a father-daughter date," he says the last part to Tremors, who tales out an earbud.

"I'll tell Mack you're ready to order," Jiaying says coolly. Cal watches her cross the room and tap a very big, muscled man on the arm. Mack, she called him.

Tremors watches her father. "Don't worry, dad. Mack is all about Wanda. Well, no. he's all about this restaurant. But he does love Wanda."

"I wasn't worried," Cal lies with a grin. He looks down at his menu. "Now, what kind of pizza should I order?"

"I got cheese. It's pretty good."

"Cheese it is then. And one of those soda pops. What are they called now? Mountain Dew?"

Tremors laughs. "Yeah, dad. The one you like is Mountain Dew."

"Great," Cal says as Mack comes over. "Two slices of cheese and a Mountain Dew, please."

Mack nods. "Trip will be right out with that. Thank you for dinning at Mack's Pizza tonight."

It sounds very rehearsed to Tremors, but Cal seems to like the sentiment, because he also orders one of Mack's (somewhat stale) cookies.

"It's been a great day," Cal says, smiling.

* * *

"Can you stand, or walk at all?" Darcy asks, taking a bite of pizza.

Bruce focuses on swallowing for a moment. Darcy was right about the pineapple; it was quite good. "N-n-no."

Darcy nods. "I was just thinking, because that would be a pretty good alibi for a murderer, that you might be faking. But, if you were, you probably wouldn't tell me, which means that you could be." She says it all very matter-of-factly.

Bruce smiles, touched. No one had ever thought he could be a criminal before; it was very nice of her to say that. They really had to be on file-sharing terms now. "N-n-n-not-tes?"

Darcy gets up. "Soon. Now, I've got to go thank Ms. Maximoff. That pizza was really good."

At her table, Jemma looks up. "Where's Darcy going?"

Nick Fury chooses then to come in. "Hey, the roads are clear!"

Then Wanda runs out of the kitchen, screaming, and knocks out Darcy.

* * *

Darcy is fine, other than a broken arm. She is loaded into an ambulance, and, at the last moment, Jemma joins her.

"You can visit later, Jemma." Jiaying tries to pull Jemma away from the ambulance and back inside, but it doesn't work.

"I have to go with her, mother," Jemma says unapologetically.

And the fire in the kitchen is put out rather quickly, thanks to the roads being cleared.

"Someone messed with the sprinkler system, as well as the fire alarm," Chief Blake, head of the local firemen, says. "It's a good thing the roads were cleared this time, or you could have ended up like the bakery downstairs."

"So it's definitely arson?" someone asked.

"We're investigating a number of possibilities. In the meantime, please be careful lighting matches and using your ovens."

Jiaying goes up to the apartment, turns off the heating and yells at Tremors for trying to re-heat a slice of pizza ("Are you trying to set the apartment on fire?!" "No! I'm going to Tasha's." "Bring that plate back!").

No way was she going to have a fire in her apartment, not with the bridal shower coming up.

Little did Jiaying know that the Johnson's apartment was exactly where the arsonist planned to strike next.

* * *

 **Hello again. Thanks for reading. Bye.**


	14. Figuring It Out

When the storm's flooding had cleared enough for Shield Towers' residents to leave, they did, and in quick procession.

First came (or went, depending on how you looked at it) Dr. Johnson, who did _not_ have an emergency surgery on a beagle's cancerous leg—which was what he told Jiaying—but who was desperate to leave wedding central for a couple of hours. He left even before Coulson could drive up to the Towers and open the door for him.

Coulson _was_ there, however, when Jemma, having finally escaped her mother's grasp, left to go search the library's collection of CDs. Darcy had switched around their clues and come up with I'LL SAVE TO SAY IS SHOULDN'T. She thought that had something to do with music, and seeing as Waters was an old man, Darcy had directed Jemma to check out the ones she thought looked "suspicious" or "interesting".

What Coulson deemed "suspicious" and "interesting" was the large bag Jemma was carrying, but he didn't say a thing.

After Jemma came Tremors and Natasha, both wearing leather jackets Nat had picked up at a thrift shop. Emblazoned on the cuffs were red daisies—Nat had done that, to show that they were a team. _They_ were going to the town's music store, to promote that song of theirs. By now, pretty much everyone knew it was somehow related to the Game, but no one was sure how.

That was part of what Coulson planned to talk to Raina about, when she emerged from the lofty heights of the fourth floor to hurry off to work. While he was waiting, Coulson cleaned the lawyers fancy car, making it shine in the post-storm sunshine.

"No tip necessary, Ms. Z," Coulson said with a wink, waving away Raina's hand. She'd already given him the entirety of their check to him, so this was the least he could do for her.

Internally, Raina yelled at herself for being so stupid. "Do you have family?" she asked to make up for it.

"Nope," Coulson said easily. "Just me."

"I'm the same way," Raina said with a small sigh.

Coulson nodded gravely. "I was thinking about the clues, Ms. Z."

"Coulson, please call me Raina. Ms. Z was my mother," Raina joked. "But, please, do tell me what you found."

Coulson pulled a torn piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and gave it to Raina happily.

 _KEEP – to hold onto something; a knight's keep?_

 _CORE – the center of something_

 _THEY – referring to two or more people_

 _WILL – referring to something that will happen in the future; Waters's will?_

 _DO – an act_

"I think it means Jemma and Darcy," Coulson said nervously. "She kept a copy of the will, and 'they' could mean he was killed by more than one person. On the outside, they both seem like sweet girls, and Darcy is sick and all, but at their cores they're evil people."

Raina nodded, looking over the list again. What Coulson said made sense, but it was also a bit far-fetched. Then again, Waters had always been a bit eccentric. "I'll do some investigating, Coulson, and get back to you later. How about dinner? Eight o' clock?"

"Sure thing, Raina. See you then."

* * *

"What you need to do is refinish this place. The times have changed, Mack. It's all about gastropubs and online ordering. I mean, at least get some tablets, instead of having your guests read from a menu like it's the dark ages," Jiaying said. Having lost both her prime target for improvements and the backup, she had ventured out of her apartment to boss around her partner, instead.

"What I need is my half of the money."

"A quarter of a million is what I estimate the improvements will cost. A little less than, actually, so I'll be contributing some of my own money towards the sum. You can pay me back when we start to turn a profit."

Mack got up, banging a hand on the table. "Out!" he said.

After taking in his considerable frame—and the muscles attached to it—Jiaying complied. She stomped her way to the elevator, and before she knew it she was back in her own apartment.

She wasn't alone, of course; the help was conversing in the kitchen, much to her annoyance. They didn't even seem to realize she was there.

"I remember them, Nick," the cleaning lady said to her partner. She had paused her task of wiping down the counters.

"So do I, Mel, but that isn't the point here. Anyone could have them now. Don't pretend you can't hear me, May. This is important."

"Important enough to interrupt her work? Can't you discuss this on your own time?" Jiaying asked scathingly.

Fury turned around and left. "Yes, ma'am," he said in response. As he exited the door, he screamed "FIRE" at the top of his lungs and, seeing how frightened Jiaying and May were, continued to scream it at random intervals over the course of the week.

* * *

"You see, I'm a scientific researcher, not a doctor. It would be different if you were a monkey. Then, I could most certainly t-treat you," Fitz explained, pacing the floor in Bruce's apartment.

Bruce, for the record, had not asked for a cure. All he wanted was to talk about the clues, or have his partner explain the Star Wars series to him. Then: monopoly. Bruce was an ace at monopoly.

Fitz was _not_ an ace at getting Bruce to sign the check. He wouldn't, because then Leo would leave that he would be stuck all alone again.

"I have to go feed the chimps," Fitz muttered, checking the time on his phone. Bruce didn't answer. Fitz thought he probably thought Fitz was the murderer. A lot of residents seemed to, since he was a scientist and all. "I left the clues at the lab; what are they? 'Obi-Wan, you're my only hope?'" He hoped to get this over with soon; being around Bruce was bringing out his stutter again.

Bruce shook his head. " _T-truly W-w-wa-wan I'm-m a ch-chance b-b-beat._ " Bruce spoke slowly and steadily, trying to minimalize his own stutter. " _W-wan –_ S-Star War-rs. E-e-evil f-father. _Beat –_ mus-ic. T-tremors."

"Dr. Johnson," Fitz said, putting it together in his head. "Nice thinking. Now, about the check—"

Bruce shook his head firmly. No way.

* * *

Jemma loved the library. She loved the smell of paper and books. She loved the cramped space. She loved the low lighting and emptiness of it all.

She stayed there for hours, even after checking out about a hundred CDs that looked "interesting". None of them were really "suspicious", though.

Eventually, though, Jiaying started texting her relentlessly, wondering where she was, so Jemma walked over to the bus stop and boarded a bus to Shield Towers. She tried not to think about what her mother would say if she knew.

Just as the bus was about to pull away, Lincoln got on. He took the seat next to her without asking, leg jumping up and down excitedly.

Jemma knew the kid had a crush on her; she just hadn't figured out how to deal with it yet.

"I didn't know you listen to twenty one pilots," Lincoln says, pointing to one of the CDs in Jemma's bag.

Jemma doesn't know how to tell him she got that CD for Tremors—not her. She remembered the band as one that her sister listened to, and she had been asking for their newest album.

"I haven't listened to their new stuff yet, either. Once you're done, can I take a listen?" Lincoln asked next.

"Sure."

* * *

At the Shield Towers stop, Lincoln got off, by Jemma stayed in her seat until the bus was pulling up outside of the hospital.

Darcy's doctor, Will Daniels, asked to see her before Jemma could actually go in to see her partner.

The conversation that ensued was basically a mixture of "She's faking it" and "That can't be true". But it _is_ , Jemma could see that from the lab results in his hands.

"What I want to ask is if this is reason to call psych, or is she just getting into character."

"She's—she's living in character. For the movie," Jemma lied. She's a bad liar, but that's what Dr. Daniels wanted to hear, so he let it slide.

Darcy was biting her lip nervously when Jemma came in. "Jemma I—"

"I know, Darcy. It's amazing! A spontaneous remission! And you haven't even lost your hair yet," Jemma said.

They both knew it wasn't real, that Jemma knew Darcy had been faking it, but they both pretended it was true.

* * *

When Tremors returned home from Nat's that night, she found two presents on her bed.

One, from Jemma, was a loan, but it was pretty cool anyway.

After putting the CD into her laptop and pressing play, Tremors moves over to the bed to read the second present. Two clues, but with no note attached to explain them.

KILL MOTION

Tremors didn't know if she could trust them, but she didn't care. Someone out there was rooting for her, and they thought this could help.

She was going to win the game.

* * *

 **A/N: So, I'm back. Yeah, this took a while. A long while. But don't worry, however long it takes I wont give up on this fic. This is a slightly longer chapter, I think, so I hope you enjoyed.**

 **Stay safe, everyone.**


	15. History, In Preperation

**Warning: mentions of suicide**

* * *

By Friday, 'normal' had digressed to what the heirs would have previously considered 'oddity', though none had the presence of mind to notice.

The three heirs who attended public school did so. Trip ran; Lincoln studied; Tremors got her phone taken away in 3 out of her 4 classes for having the audacity to listen to music.

The residents who went to work did so. The bakery was full of customers. The restaurant wasn't.

Raina won a case; Coulson did what a doorman does (no one was actually sure what his job consisted of, other than opening the door for them); Natasha refreshed the music listings and saw some clients.

Cal Johnson didn't have any operations, so, after checking on May's cat, he went up the restaurant in search of his wife.

He didn't find her, just Mack. "May I have a table? For one."

Laughing bitterly, Mack nodded. "Sure." He grabbed a menu and led Cal over to a table near the windows. "This good?"

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks," Cal said, but Mack was already gone.

Just as he was sitting, Jiaying floated over. She wasn't smiling.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lunch. How's your day been?"

Jiaying's elbows leaned against the table as she sat down across from him. "Fine."

There was silence. Cal wondered when that had seeped in, taken root and begun to grow. He wondered when they had _allowed_ it to grow.

Then Mack came back with a plate of food Cal hadn't ordered and the veterinarian let himself descend back into the haze of everyday being.

* * *

In an ironic reversal of roles, Raina opened the door to a smiling Phil Coulson that night. It was eight o'clock on the dot, and the doorman had brought his notebook.

"Drinks?" the lawyer asked, watching Coulson shuffle in and take a seat on her couch.

"Just water, please."

Raina nodded, going to her fridge. "I thought we'd order dinner from Mack's, desert from the Bakery. That way, we can question both Lance Hunter and Alphonso Mackenzie."

"Hey, Raina? I've been meaning to ask, but… do you really think one of them did it?"

The lawyer came back with two bottles of water and a menu provided by the Bakery (Mack's had no take-away menu, which might have added to the restaurant's impending failure, given that customers had no idea what they could order). Her face was set. "I think any of us could be, or maybe none."

"Wise words, ma'am. Wise words."

Raina didn't blush, she got on with it. "Yes, well, let's get started. I got these from a digital catalogue of the Waterstown Gazette."

On the table, she laid out three clippings: a wedding announcement, a social piece, and an obituary. All three had pictures.

Coulson studied each, noting the pictures and headlines on his paper.

 **LOCAL BUSINESSMAN'S DAUGHTER TO MARRY STAR CEO –** _Left: Mary Sue Waters, 19, smiling at camera. Right: Mary Sue Waters, expressionless, next to Christian Ward (grinning)_

 **WATER'S CHARITY BANQUET CANCELLED AFTER SUICIDE –** _Waters family photo. Rosalind Waters's face is blurred. Mary Sue smiling, Waters smiling._

 **LIFE AND LOVE – REMEMBERING MARY SUE WATERS** – _Left: smiling Mary Sue Waters. Right: Rosalind Waters, leaning on husband's shoulder with black veil on._

"She sure smiled a lot, Z."

"Yes, she did." Raina couldn't keep the twinge out of her voice, although she tried. It had been a long time since she'd last seen Mary Sue Waters, and she hadn't expected it to hurt quite as much as it did.

Coulson, perhaps picking up on her tenseness, changed the subject. "Whatever happened to Rosalind Waters?"

"She left him after Mary Sue died. No one's heard from her since. Rosalind Audrey—her supposed maiden name—was apparently fake. You can't even make out her face in the photos."

 _Slam!_ Coulson banged the table as if it had stolen his wallet. "That's it, Z! It's Rosalind, come to take revenge!"

Skeptically, Raina shook her head. "No one's heard from her in years…."

"Sure, not from Rosalind, but from her _real_ identity? We don't know!"

Raina's eyes lit up in recognition. Something had clicked. "And she wanted to kill Waters because he arranged the marriage that killed their daughter."

The doorbell rang. For a second, the pair looked between each other and the door in a crazed, paranoid stupor. _Who'd heard them? Who'd found out?_ Then, at the same time, both remembered they'd ordered a pizza and some pastries.

It was Trip at the door, the one person neither were planning to talk to.

Until, that is, it occurred to Raina that maybe they should have been.

"Careful now, it's hot," he said, handing Coulson one of three pizza boxes in his hands. Apparently, business was looking up for Mack's Pizza. Raina was glad. She could finally stop listening to Mack rant against Bakeries.

Raina got a twenty from her wallet, thought about it a second, then retrieved another. "Trip… tell me, are Tremors and Lincoln involved in any way?"

The track star was dumbfounded. Insulted. Confused. "What?! No!" he shouted. A little too loudly.

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

Something in his voice made Raina believe him. Sighing, she passed Trip the forty dollars, thanked him, and shut the door.

Three locks later, Coulson blurted out, "What was _that_ about?"

Raina took a bite from her pizza. "Tremors is uncannily alike to Mary Sue Waters, Lincoln has blonde hair like Hunter. If Waters was trying to recreate the scene with his daughter, it would be them he'd use."

"But, Z, if he's doing that, wouldn't Tremors have to die?"

The lawyer was deeply affected when she answered, "I don't know, Coulson. I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N: So this is really short and really late, but here we are. School's (finally) over, and I'm back to updating weekly. This time, on Mondays. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be longer.**


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